Black Widow: Fallen Angels
by Fenix84
Summary: Natasha Romanoff's life is in shambles. Her covers have been blown, her loyalty is being questioned, and it's only a matter of time before her friends all learn to hate her. Against these odds, she decides to save a young girl whose life is far too similar to her own. However, her dark past is about to come clawing for her once again. Set after Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
1. Prologue: Little Girl Lost

**Chapter One**

**Prologue: Little Girl Lost**

_May 5, 2012_

_Outskirts of Calcutta, India_

With a sense of dread and regret, Agent Natasha Romanoff checked the time on her smartphone again. _9:18 PM_. She hadn't given Priyanka a strict deadline, but the girl should've returned with Dr. Banner by now. Every passing minute worried Natasha even more.

_Shouldn't have sent her_, she thought. The girl wasn't ready for this. No one was.

Natasha had hated the entire plan. If the world weren't in such danger, if Clint wasn't compromised, then she never would have gone along with it. But things really were that screwed up, and her orders were to bring Banner in by any means possible.

Victoria Hand, the senior agent in charge of this operation, had wanted to deploy Priyanka without any knowledge of Bruce Banner's true nature. The girl was just seven years old after all, and she was supposed to do a job that would scare even the most hardened of agents. Hand wasn't confident that Priyanka would keep her cool if she were aware of what Banner really was.

However, Natasha couldn't find it in herself to deceive such a young child. She had been deceived enough throughout her own life. She remembered how betrayed she had felt, during every mission gone to hell because of something she had _no need to know_. Against her better judgment, she told Priyanka everything before sending her off.

To Priyanka's credit, the revelation did nothing to change her mind about the mission. She had understood what was at stake, and what needed to be done. Natasha had been so proud of the girl she had rescued just two months ago.

_She can do this_. After all, Priyanka was not just another orphaned human trafficking victim. She and her older sister Sanjana had been abducted when she was just a toddler. After a few years together as slaves, they were separated so that Priyanka could be sold to a rogue mercenary group. With them, she had learned how to survive and kill at an age when most children were still learning how to read.

But despite all of her talents, the girl was now very late. Unable to contain her impatience, Natasha crept over to the window for a peek outside of the wooden shack in which she stood. She saw nothing but the same empty dirt road that she had looked at several minutes before.

_Stop being stupid_, she told herself. The area was surrounded by several of SHIELD's elite tactical units. If Priyanka and Banner were near, those men would promptly notify her. There was no need for her to keep looking outside, especially when it did nothing to ease her mind...

Natasha noticed right then that she wasn't breathing. If Banner had caught on to the plan, if he were to fly into a rage and kill the girl...then Natasha wouldn't even be able to stop and mourn her death. The Tesseract was still out there, and every other problem in the world was irrelevant in comparison. Priyanka would just become an entry in Natasha's ledger. Another addition to an amount that she would never be able to erase.

"Raven Two to Black Widow," said the sniper in the southwest quadrant. He had spoken clearly, but Natasha was still able to detect the tension in his voice through her earphone. Just like her, the man was doing everything he could just to keep his cool. "Jekyll is headed your way. Over."

"Roger that, Raven Two." Natasha stepped aside to hide her body from the window, even as she continued to look across the street. Thirty seconds passed before she saw Priyanka and Banner appearing in the distance. Priyanka was rushing for the shack, as if her father actually _was_ dying inside. Banner, however, was suspiciously looking around even as they neared their destination.

"Black Widow to all points. Maintain your distance. You'll _know_ if you're needed. Over and out."

A white pickup truck appeared on the dirt road, and Natasha could see that it was on pace to roll by the house at the same time that Priyanka would be crossing the street. The girl kept going though with apparent single-mindedness, which forced Banner to grab her so that she wouldn't be run over.

_Good girl_, Natasha thought. She knew that the best way to lower someone's awareness was to feign vulnerability. Priyanka's savvy move had seized Banner's attention and preyed upon his protective instincts as a man. Her brush with death would continue to preoccupy him during their final steps toward the shack.

Natasha stepped back from the window and turned to look into the living room as they arrived. Waiting with bated breath, she watched Priyanka run toward the open window at the back of the house. She didn't allow herself to breathe again until she saw the girl climbing outside. But while Priyanka was safe, Natasha knew that she herself was not. It was all on her now.

"Shoulda got paid up front, Banner," the Doctor said as he stopped in the middle of the house.

Natasha put on a friendly face and walked out behind him. _Easy now_. She kept both hands in front of her, casually holding a shawl around her otherwise bare arms. It was ridiculous, but she needed to show the freaking Hulk that _she_ was no threat to _him_. "You know, for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle."

Putting down his bag of medical supplies, Banner turned around and stared at her. "Avoiding stress isn't the secret."

"And what is it? Yoga?" Natasha knew she wasn't fooling anyone with it, but humor was one of the only cards she had to play. None of her combat skills would mean a damn thing against the strength that Banner could unleash at a moment's notice.

He seemed aware of that strength as well, speaking casually as he began to inspect the room. "Now you brought me to the edge of the city. Smart."

His condescension cut deep as he made clear who was in control of the situation. Natasha silently burned from his words, because she had struggled for every shred of power and control that she possessed in her life. She had trained and fought so hard to free herself from others, but men like Banner proved that she would always be at someone else's mercy. She hated how helpless he made her feel.

Turning around, he looked out one of the windows. "I assume the whole place is surrounded?"

Natasha put down her shawl to show that she really, truly, hand nothing in her hands. "Just you and me." _And a bunch of tough guys about to crap their pants_.

As expected, Banner didn't buy any of it. "And your actress buddy. Is she a spy too? They start that young?"

It was a simple question, but it still gave Natasha pause. The near disbelief coming from a man who could transform into a giant green monster highlighted just how wrong her upbringing had been. Struck by a sudden onrush of memories, she froze for a split-second before she opened her mouth to reply.

"I did."

_**To be continued in Chapter 2: Something to Fight For**_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Haven't seen anyone use the little girl from the _Avengers_ movie in a fanfic, despite how much she helped to reveal about Natasha. Hope you read on to see my take on what happens to them after _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_!


	2. Something to Fight For

**Author's Note:** Spoiler alert for _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_. Go and see the movie if you haven't already!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**Something to Fight For**

_April 9, 2014_

_Mansfield, Connecticut_

"The world is a vulnerable place. But we're the best qualified to defend it."

_You were right about the first thing_, Natasha thought as she watched herself on television. This had been near the end of her testimony on Capitol Hill, not long before she had turned and walked straight for the exit. Best to leave the place on a high note before any more pressing questions could be asked of her.

She knew that her self-serving excuse – and that was exactly what people would interpret it as – would only cover her ass for so long. By turning on SHIELD, by leaking all of its secrets, she had made herself a lot of enemies in high places.

The news coverage shifted from footage of her testimony back to the loudmouthed pundits who began to weigh in on the recent crisis. Angrily, they debated the trustworthiness of the Black Widow, the Avengers, SHIELD, and the US government itself.

_Bunch of gasbags_, Natasha thought as she watched them argue_. All of them_. The men ranted on and on without any insight, but Natasha knew that they more than made up for that in influence. These people held the power to sway public opinion. And right now, their opinion of her was not a favorable one.

Of all the things in the world, public relations weren't something she had ever thought to prepare herself for. Her domain was in the shadows, not on a twenty-four hour cable news channel. But there she saw her face, above a caption reading "Black Widow a Traitor?" She knew that her face was also being shown on every other media outlet in the world, all of which were asking the same exact question.

The accusations and smears became too much for her to bear, and Natasha found herself abruptly turning off the TV.

"Everyone hates me," she said under her breath. How had it come to this?

She thought she had gone straight after joining SHIELD. That she had begun to redeem her name and clear away the red on her ledger. Now, after helping to bring down three helicarriers over Washington before blowing the entire agency apart, Natasha Romanoff wondered if she had even had a full accounting of her sins.

How much had her various operations contributed to the recent Hydra plot to overthrow the world? Natasha knew that she would have to figure it all out sometime. Just not now. Analysis required her to be levelheaded. However, all she could feel was hate and loss, betrayal and anger. She had been deceived for the better part of a decade, and now more than ever, she didn't know whom she could trust.

_That's always been the case_, Natasha thought as she sat alone in the living room of her country home. Her coffee table was strewn with hundreds of documents that she had just removed from her hidden safe. However, the throw pillows around her were neatly arranged, and the leather couch on which she sat felt firm and crisp from disuse.

Her house was luxurious and decorated with a simple and elegant design. It was beautiful, and exactly what Natasha wanted in a home. Shame that it would have to be abandoned along with her other unnecessary possessions.

The place had not been purchased in the name of Natasha Romanoff, or Natalia Alianovna Romanova or whatever the hell she was calling herself these days. However, it _had_ been bought by Natalie Rushman, former international model and now just another exposed alias of hers. It was too easy for people to trace, and already unsafe to inhabit.

Natasha had never truly lived in this house of hers. She had never had the chance to share the home with anyone, or even to entertain any guests in it. But then again, she hadn't had that many friends.

It had just been so much easier for her not to open up to anyone. Sometimes though, such as now, Natasha wondered if she had taken that too far. In the dark, silent solitude of her living room, quaint ideas such friendship, romance, and family seemed more remote to her than ever before.

She had taken leave from SHIELD after the events in Washington. Possibly forever, after airing all of its dirty laundry on the internet. All that she had left was the guidance from her former director Nick Fury: to go through all of the files she had leaked, looking for autonomous black projects that may still provide shelter for Hydra. Simply put, she would be spying on her own agency from now on.

For years, she had worked so hard to establish her credibility with her fellow agents. Earning their trust with blood, sweat, and occasionally, a few unseen tears. But now, she was just another rogue agent among many. As hard as she had fought against the Hydra infiltration, she would have a hard time proving to certain people that she wasn't somehow in on it. What everyone _could_ agree upon was that she was a security breach.

Steve Rogers, Captain America, was the hero of the Washington incident. She, on the other hand, was a "whistleblower." That was if someone wanted to be nice about it. Most agents would just deem her a turncoat now. An insider threat. A snitch. Those people would be right. There was no taking back what she had done. Even if she hadn't officially resigned from SHIELD, she no longer had any real place in it.

Technically, she still had the Avengers. Her reserve membership card, a corny little memento given to her by Tony Stark, was just one of the things she had tucked away inside her safe. Natasha picked the card up from her table. Slowly, she looked over her portrait on the glossy red and white card as she considered whether to burn the thing along with the other artifacts of her past lives.

Her teammates weren't idiots, and Tony was particularly net-savvy. He had probably ordered JARVIS, his artificially intelligent assistant, to scan everything she had leaked within minutes of it becoming public. Quite a few of those files were probably about her. The Avengers would soon know that she had done more than just spy for the wrong side.

She had assassinated political activists and world leaders. Tortured prisoners during interrogations. Destroyed dozens of innocent lives in collateral damage.

It didn't matter that she had been unmade. That she had not always been herself when she had done those things. Whatever the reason, her hands were still stained with the blood of her victims. The Black Widow was no superhero. She was a monster.

Her shame intensified, and she almost flung her membership card away in frustration. She stopped short of that though, and slid the card into the pouch of her leather jacket instead.

While she hadn't been with the Avengers for very long, her time with the team had become one of the brightest spots in her entire life. She liked the unambiguous heroics of being an Avenger, which had allowed her to pretend that she was a much better person than she really was. Membership was something she would always cherish, for however long it would last. She just didn't see it lasting much longer.

"Guess you'll finally know who I am, Steve." Natasha hunched over, lowering her head to just above her knees. Staying in that position, she remembered the talk they had had about two years ago, not long after the team had first assembled.

Recently thawed from the ice, Steve had been feeling especially lost and lonely back then. In the aftermath of their big battle, he had privately approached her in Stark Tower. Trying to connect with her, and inquiring about her past. He was sweet, awkward, and a little desperate, and it was all too much for Natasha's comfort. Still, her emotions had also been raw at the time. Alone with Steve, she briefly displayed vulnerability before promising to tell him all about herself.

She had never followed through on that promise though, and their schedules bore some of the blame for that. The world had gotten a lot scarier after the Battle of New York, with threats appearing from all corners of the globe and beyond. Even before Hydra had revealed itself as alive and well, SHIELD and the Avengers had been busy dealing with alien incursions, old school terror plots, and superpowered psychos calling themselves the "Masters of Evil." Moments when she and Steve could just relax and talk to each other were few and far between.

That was the excuse, which Natasha kept making for herself. The truth was that she tiptoed around every potentially intimate conversation with him. She revealed herself to him only gradually and in painfully small amounts. Privately, she knew that she didn't _really_ want to be open with him. He would look at her differently, if he knew all of the ugly details of her past. So she had kept him at arm's length, encouraging him to pursue other girls even as she continued to tease and flirt with him.

The last time she had seen him was a day ago, at the cemetery in front of Nick Fury's false grave. Despite all of their shared experiences, or perhaps _because_ of them, she had acted no differently than before.

After giving Steve a few leads on Bucky Barnes, his former friend and current Winter Soldier, she pushed him away again. She urged him to seek out Sharon Carter, their fellow agent whom neither of them knew very much about. Natasha had only given him a single kiss on the cheek before she slipped away, back into the loneliness that had become her way of life again.

_It's for the best...Love is for children._ Maybe that was bullshit, but she didn't have any other options now. Besides, Steve deserved so much better than what she had to offer.

The recent upheaval in his own life was the only reason he hadn't yet read up on her. Steve was currently obsessed with saving Bucky. Whether or not he succeeded, Natasha knew that he would have plenty of time to look into her afterward. Hell, Tony and the others might just go ahead and tell him. She just wouldn't be there to face him when that happened.

With a sigh, Natasha sat up and returned to the task of sorting through her papers. Work was always good for taking her mind off of things. She had to decide which of her personal files would be needed going forward, and which ones she would have to destroy. Many of her documents could be used to track her down. Even worse, some of them could cause serious harm to others if they were to fall into the wrong hands.

She carefully went through the papers, reading over every line on each one. Quickly assessing intelligence was one of her talents, but there were so many files there that she didn't near the end of her review until more than an hour had passed.

Finally, when her eyes were as weary as her mind, she reached a folder labeled "Priyanka."

_Forgot all about her_. Feeling guilty, Natasha opened the folder. The little girl was yet another person she had made an unfulfilled promise to. Inside the folder were a number of possible leads on her missing teenage sister Sanjana, whom Natasha had vowed to find. She had just never had the time to do so.

It dawned on her then that she hadn't even seen Priyanka in almost half a year. The last time they had met, Priyanka was still living in makeshift quarters on the large base known as the "Hub." Natasha had heard some plans about possibly moving the girl to another location, where she could be better taken care of. Nurtured by the safe, loving hands of SHIELD...

_Oh no_, Natasha thought as she dropped the folder. With the extent of the Hydra infiltration, and the civil war that had just been waged in SHIELD installations across the world, there was a better than nothing chance that Priyanka had been caught up in some of it. Natasha felt sick and disgusted with how she had abandoned her. She had to find out where the girl was.

With a sudden sense of urgency, she pulled out her special SHIELD issued smartphone. Using it, she looked for updates to Priyanka's status among the Hub's files. The latest update was three months ago, when personnel at the Hub were ordered to turn Priyanka over to a Level 7 agent named Carl Hickson.

_Hickson. I remember that name_...Of course she did. He was one of the Hydra moles whom Natasha had killed during the Triskelion battle. Her mouth slid open, and her eyes widened at the realization of what that could mean.

"It can't be...No."

She refused to accept that Priyanka was gone. If the Hub's files were useless then she would have to look elsewhere. Her phone possessed incredible memory capacity, and she had used it to copy millions of the files she had leaked just a week ago. All of those were still there.

She entered the massive database and typed Priyanka's name into the search bar. The phone then began the laborious process of sifting through its files. Natasha waited, as a circular icon on the phone's screen swirled on for ten minutes that seemed to be an eternity. Nothing. She searched again for Agent Hickson.

Following another excruciating wait, a group of files finally came up. No secret orders or smoking guns though. Just the type of regular documents that SHIELD used to run its daily operations.

There were records of firearms that Hickson had checked out from various armories. Logs with his arrival and departure dates at safe houses. Even monthly statements on his agency credit card.

It was all very mundane stuff. However, Natasha knew that the devil was in the details. The mundane usually concealed facts of crucial importance.

Dates, locations, and names could be found on each of those records. Pieced together, they could help shed light on what Agent Hickson had been doing over the past few months.

Natasha didn't like the implications of a corrupt agent dealing so directly with Priyanka, but at least she had a trail to follow. Something to fight on for.

For now.

_**To be continued in Chapter 3: Hidden Scars**_


	3. Hidden Scars

**Chapter Three**

**Hidden Scars**

_April 12, 2014_

_Northern Minnesota outside of SHIELD "Day Care" facility_

Natasha knew better than to keep her phone on when out on a mission. Especially at night just outside of potential enemy territory. She shouldn't have been concerned with communication _at all_ after quietly dropping off the grid three days ago. However, Steve had been trying to get in touch with her. She couldn't help herself from reading his text messages.

Two days ago, after her empty Connecticut home had been visited by government suits and a swarm of reporters, Steve had sent her a message asking, "Are you OK?" He had tried to call her since then, before finally sending another text message less than a minute ago: "Where are you?"

_Wish I could say_, Natasha thought as she turned off her phone. Steve wasn't fresh off the ice anymore, but he still didn't understand many things about twenty-first century life. Such as how easy it was to track someone's phone and snoop on their calls and text messages.

Despite the advanced security features installed on her SHIELD issued smartphone, Hydra could still conceivably get to it. Therefore, she had decided to abandon the device. Before discarding her phone, she had uploaded all of its files onto a flash drive. From now on, she would access those files with a small laptop computer that she kept offline at all times.

To handle any calls from her friends, Natasha had programmed a viral botnet that infected thousands of civilian phones and computers. Any calls or text messages to her old number would be secretly relayed through dozens of random devices, both before and after reaching the anonymous prepaid phone that she was using right now. This made it safe for her to hear from her friends, in case they needed help. Unfortunately, she couldn't be as confident in the security of _their_ phones. That meant that she wouldn't be sending them anything unless the situation was truly dire.

With a sigh, Natasha tucked her cheap new phone into a pouch on her utility belt. It was time to compartmentalize. To bottle up her thoughts of Steve and everything else, and focus on the mission at hand. A little girl's life could be depending on that.

As she reached for a pair of night vision binoculars, a loud gust of wind blew over her. Her well-insulated Black Widow suit kept her body warm, but Natasha still felt the chill on her exposed face. The weather was crappy that night, typical for the middle of April. _At least it's not raining again_, she thought. _Yet_.

Raising her binoculars to her face, she zoomed in on the compound below the wet grassy hilltop that she was lying on. It looked almost unchanged from the farm that it had once been.

Agent Hickson had visited this part of Minnesota days after taking Priyanka from the Hub. He had made the same trip on other occasions going back to the beginning of the year. His credit card showed gas and food purchases in the surrounding towns, and he had often stayed in a safe house less than an hour away. When plotted on a map, all of this activity seemed to center around this farm. A farm that hadn't engaged in any business since its sale five years ago.

Obviously, farming was not what the "Day Care" was for. Natasha had only determined the facility's nickname after a day of digging through her files. It was mentioned in several emails between high-ranking agents in Hickson's chain of command. They had made some offhand remarks about the place, without describing it or mentioning anything specific. The Day Care had to be another SHIELD black site existing off the books, playfully named in a way that was descriptive but also vague.

Natasha had never been notified of Priyanka's transfer to this location, despite her clearly worded request to be kept in the loop when it came to her young friend. Obviously, SHIELD had been trying to hide the girl from her. For what reason, Natasha would have to get inside in order to find out.

The compound was enclosed with a tall fence topped with a coil of barbed wire. There was a single locked gate, with a sign displaying the name of the farm when it had still been in civilian hands. Through that gate, a path ran toward the public road about a mile away. Natasha had parked her car further back on that road, before she had trekked over the soggy hills of the surrounding area to reach her current position.

There weren't any crops on the fields inside the fence, but the buildings were all still there. These included a barn, two silos, a tool shed, and a pair of farmhouses. They were well maintained, even picturesque. If not for the barbed wire, the place would look every bit like an ideal of the American Heartland. It _seemed_ like a good place to live.

_She's gotta be in there_, Natasha thought as she zoomed in on the larger house. It had two levels of roofing, one of which was below the bedrooms on the top floor. That lower roof extended outward to provide shelter for a porch that ran along the front of the house. It could also provide a walkway for an intruder to access the bedroom windows.

The lights inside those windows were on. Looking in, Natasha saw regular furnishings but no people. From afar, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing except the security guards patrolling in the darkness.

There were two of them, both armed with assault rifles. They had no flashlights to give them away, which meant that they were probably equipped with night vision of their own. The two men walked steadily and in opposite directions, each monitoring a separate semicircle around the buildings. This level of protection suggested a security force that was small and undermanned. However, the guards appeared to taking their jobs very seriously.

_Who knows? Maybe they're the good guys_.

Priyanka's opinion would be needed before reaching a conclusion on that matter. Knowing that, Natasha wasn't going to shoot it out with anyone if she could help it. She had still come prepared for a firefight though. Her two small but trusty Glock 26 pistols were in her thigh holsters, each loaded with ten rounds of the best hollow point ammunition available.

Natasha had also brought a sound suppressor for use with these handguns. This rested in a small pouch hanging on the side of her belt. The suppressor was useful if an extra measure of stealth was needed, but Natasha didn't like to use it. It added significant length and weight to a weapon, which negated the basic advantages of using a subcompact pistol in the first place. And even suppressed, guns still made noise and usually a mess.

That was why Natasha preferred to fight with her body and with her other equipment if she could. Equipment such as her trademark bracelets, with grappling line launchers and power cells for her "Widow's Bite" taser gloves. On her utility belt, she was also carrying two knives and more than a dozen disk-shaped throwing weapons. These included explosives, flashbangs, and electroshock devices.

None of her hardware would matter though, if she couldn't get in and out with Priyanka. A downpour of rain was expected that night, starting in less than an hour. It would make any escape that much more difficult. There wasn't much time left if she wanted to avoid the storm.

She kept watching the guard on the southern half of the compound as he approached the end of his semicircle. That was her intended breaching point because it would give her the most time to work with. The guard finally reached the end of his route and turned around to walk in the other direction. "Here goes nothing," Natasha whispered as she pushed herself up. She hooked her binoculars back onto her belt and pulled a pair of night vision goggles over her eyes. Then she sprinted hard toward the barbed wire fence.

Reaching the fence, she took out a pair of shears and began to cut her way through. She just needed a small opening less than three feet tall. With any luck, the guards wouldn't see it. Natasha knew better than to rely on luck, but it always helped to play the odds.

After cutting down to the ground, Natasha pulled the fence apart and crawled through. As she did so, she looked ahead and saw the guard on the northern half of the perimeter. He was beginning to turn in her direction, and he would be there in less than a minute. Natasha got up and charged toward the house. She wanted to be indoors already if he were to see her opening.

Magnified through her goggles, the lights of the house became blindingly bright as she neared them. Natasha ignored the distraction and kept pushing forward. There wasn't any time to screw around with any locks or alarms on the farmhouse doors. She wasn't stupid enough to go through a main entrance anyway. So six feet from the side of the house, she jumped up and landed upon its porch railing. She jumped again without wasting another moment to grab the lower roof with both hands.

_Hurry up. These guys aren't blind._ She strained to pull herself up onto the lower roof. Doing so was harder than it should have been. But then again, she still had two stitched-up holes in her upper arm where the Winter Soldier's bullet had gone through.

Natasha grabbed her sore left shoulder, clenching her teeth as she rolled to a sitting position on the roof. _Come on_, she told herself. _It's not that bad_. She leaned against the wall of the house, knowing that rest was not a luxury she could take. The pain thankfully receded a few moments later, and she peered out into the distance for a final check on the guards. They were still walking along on their assigned routes. So far, so good.

Natasha pulled her goggles off and crept over to the window of the nearest bedroom. It had been empty just a minute ago. She peeked inside and saw that it still was.

The window didn't seem to have any locks or alarms, so she just had to force it open. Natasha took out a knife and used it to pry the window up.

_Too easy_, she thought as she climbed inside. That wasn't always a good thing. After setting her feet on the floor, she quickly turned around to shut the window behind her.

She was a spy through and through, and she was conditioned to be curious of her surroundings. Natasha backed into the corner of the room to examine the place. It looked like the bedroom of an adult woman. A blouse and skirt lay on the foot of the bed, and there were high-heeled shoes near the door.

The bed was wide enough for two, and its ruffled blanket suggested that it was actually being used. However, only the pillow on the left side showed the imprint of a head. Whoever this woman was, she slept alone.

Natasha's eyes drifted over to a picture frame on the nightstand next to the bed. There, she spotted the image of a blonde woman. _Is that her?_ Natasha walked over for a closer look. The woman appeared to be in her thirties. She was average looking, but her face was shining with joy as she stood with her arms around a man and a young girl.

_Picture perfect_. Everything about it looked so nice that it had to be a fake. Natasha shook her head for several moments before she turned toward the door. It was time to move on.

She held her ear up against the closed door, and she heard some faint sounds coming from the other side of it. Care would have to be taken as she exited this bedroom.

Natasha took out a snake cam and turned it on. The camera of the device was ball shaped and smaller than a marble. It was connected to a four-inch viewing screen with a short length of semi-rigid cable. Natasha straightened the cable but kept the camera end bent at a ninety-degree angle. Crouching down, she slid the camera beneath the door and into the hallway on the other side.

The view provided by her camera was limited, like looking through a drinking straw. However, she could see enough to know that the right side of the hallway was clear. Natasha turned the camera around to check to her left. Nothing on that end either. She packed up the snake cam and drew one of her handguns. After attaching her suppressor to the weapon, she opened the door.

Stepping into the hallway, she saw with her own eyes what her tiny camera could not. The interior of the home, which had seemed so beautiful from outside, resembled nothing more than a slaughterhouse. Bloodstains were all over the walls, accompanied by long lines of bulletholes. The holes were too numerous to have come from a handgun, and no professional would shoot like that against someone who was fighting back. This had been done with automatics against a bunch of helpless victims.

_Oh God. I'm too late_...

She could hear more clearly now, and the noise dragged her mind back into the present. A man was definitely downstairs. He was cursing and making a big commotion. Natasha recognized the sounds of metal utensils clanging against each other. This guy was in the kitchen.

Natasha's surprise turned into rage, and she used the man as a focus for her emotion. He could explain this situation. She would _make_ him. Holding her gun by her face in a ready position, she quietly proceeded down the stairs in his direction.

As she descended, she looked around and saw that the carnage had continued onto the ground floor. There was even more blood there, along with shell casings, splintered furniture, and shards of broken glass. Judging by the dried look of the bloodstains, the killings hadn't just occurred. They had probably happened last week during the Hydra uprising.

"Damn it," said the man in the kitchen, a hint of desperation in his voice. "It's gotta be here." From the sound of it, he was now rummaging through cans of food in the cabinets and tossing them out onto the floor.

As Natasha walked along the wall toward the kitchen entrance, one of those cans rolled out across her path. She stopped just short of the entrance and peeked inside. A long rectangular table stood in the middle of the room. It was also messy, covered with dirty dishes and spots of blood. Past the table, Natasha could see the man on his knees still going through a cabinet.

He was dressed in a black SHIELD uniform. Of course he was. That's what all the murderers wore.

Natasha walked around the table to get a clear look at him. She was just about to tell the man to freeze when he snapped up and threw something at her.

_**To be continued in Chapter 4: The Family We Choose**_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who has commented so far. Please keep reviewing. I'd love to see what you think!

_Sonapsan asked: Is Steve going to be in it?_

Yes, all the Avengers are. Natasha is alone in the early chapters, but I'll soon be checking in on the rest of the team!


	4. The Family We Choose

**Chapter Four**

**The Family We Choose**

Natasha turned in time to see the agent's knife plunging into the wall near her head. He had screwed up, but so had she. She faced forward again, just as he had closed the gap between them.

The man gave her a right hook, and Natasha leaned back to dodge it. His fist swung past her face so closely she could feel it slicing through the air. That punch bought him time, and he used it to grab the wrist of her weapon hand. The man pulled with both hands and tried to seize her Glock.

_Uh-uh, _Natasha thought. She leaned forward but maintained her balance and grip. She then kicked her opponent's leg to bring him down before her. The guy refused to let go. She hammered his arms and followed with a reverse elbow to his nose.

The man spun away, grunting. He rolled to his feet, but Natasha gave him a front kick to the chin. His body snapped back and slammed against the cabinets behind him. As he bounced off, Natasha pulled him down for a knee strike. The blow brought him crumpling to the floor. Natasha pistol-whipped the back of his head to knock him out for good.

"Always gotta make it hard," she muttered. She crouched down to check her fallen foe. In his jacket, she found a leather wallet with his SHIELD badge and ID card. _Agent Lawrence Brooks. Also Level 7._

Natasha had no idea who this guy was. However, she was able to find a keycard tucked into a slot behind his ID. _What's this for?_ She hadn't seen any doors with electronic locks. Of course, she hadn't been to the basement yet. There was a door in the corner of the kitchen, which had to lead down there.

Pausing for a second, Natasha considered what Agent Brooks had been searching for. It didn't matter. The worst thing she could do was dilute her mission objectives when she didn't even know what to look for. She was only there for one reason: To find her friend.

Taking Brooks's card, Natasha went downstairs. The air in the basement was musty, and there was only a single light bulb down there to provide illumination. The basement floor was smooth, but covered with dust and mountains of old junk. Natasha noticed a dustless area on the floor in front of a pile of cardboard boxes. Pulling the boxes aside, she found a door with a slot to swipe the keycard through.

The door slid open to reveal a dark staircase that led even deeper into the earth. Both the stairs and the walls around it were made of concrete. They appeared to be newer than the basement was.

At a point about fifteen steps down, the stairs turned right. Around that turn, Natasha could hear a pair of men chattering.

"That must be Brooks," one of them said. He sounded like he was very close to the stairs.

"Huh," another man said from further away. "Wonder if he found it."

Natasha charged downstairs. She jumped as she approached the turn, and she kicked off from the wall there. Coming down into a wide, well-lit hallway, she delivered a flying kick to the face of the nearest man.

"God damn!" his partner yelled. He was sitting behind a counter that allowed him to look out into the hall. Jumping from his seat, he drew a gun.

Quickly, Natasha pulled a taser disk from her belt and flung it at his chest. Stunned by its sudden surge of electricity, he fell back against the wall of his office.

Natasha looked down the hall to see if anyone else was coming. So far, she was alone with her two unconscious friends. She took the opportunity to hop over the counter to see what was going on over there.

The office seemed to be a security station. On the wall was a large display panel, split into ten different screens. These monitored several halls, as well as an armory, a gun range, a gym, and a few storage rooms. Several men were inspecting guns inside the armory. Another was entering a room from one of the halls.

On the desk was a clipboard with a register. More than two dozen names were written on it. Half of them were strangely crossed out with scribbles of black ink. Natasha read down the page until she recognized a name near the bottom.

_Priyanka. _She could hardly believe it, after running into so much other crap. The register said that Priyanka was in Room D6. Natasha turned toward the display panel and saw a room with that number in one of the halls. It was unguarded but secured with another electronic lock.

She searched the man she had stunned, and she found another keycard. With the card and her suppressed Glock in hand, she ran over to Hall D.

Turning into the hallway, she raised her gun half expecting to be ambushed. _Nothing yet_. Slowly, she walked over to Room D6. _Please be inside._ Natasha swiped the card and stuck it into one of her pouches. She then raised her gun, before she turned the door handle to go in.

She had just seen the bare bed on the other side of the room when someone jumped on her from behind. Someone small, with a fierce shriek and even fiercer hands. Two arms wrapped around Natasha's neck, and she could feel the weight of a person hanging from her. Natasha twisted for two seconds, before she threw that person onto the bed.

She took aim, but she kept herself from firing when she saw that it was Priyanka.

"Wait! Stop!" she said, lowering the gun as she saw the girl rolling to face her. "Don't be afraid. It's me. Natasha..."

Priyanka stared at her with big open eyes, seemingly frozen with disbelief. Her body was tense, and she kept gasping as if danger lurked just outside the room.

"You remember me, don't you?" Natasha said as she took a step forward. Priyanka jerked back slightly, and her hands balled into fists. "Please. I'm here to help." Slowly, Natasha stepped forward again and opened her arms. To her relief, Priyanka leaned forward and embraced her.

Natasha clutched her tightly. She knew that there wasn't time for this. That they should be getting out of there as soon as possible. However, Priyanka's sobs filled her ears, and she couldn't help sharing the girl's pain for a few brief moments. "It's okay. It's okay..."

With great difficulty, she pulled back a bit and looked at Priyanka. She had visible marks on her neck and shoulders, in addition to the star-shaped, quarter inch wide scar behind her left ear.

According to Priyanka, her sister Sanjana had a matching scar. Sanjana had cut those distinctive marks before their separation, hoping that it could confirm their identities if they ever saw each other again after many years. A scar like that was still Natasha's best hope of finding the older sister. She had told all of her underworld informants to keep their eyes open for it.

That scar was familiar, but it was unfortunately not alone. Priyanka had a number of cuts and bruises that looked more recent. "What happened?" she asked the girl. _What did they do to you?_

Priyanka's lips quivered. "They...They killed everyone."

"I'm sorry." Natasha hugged Priyanka again, lightly patting her back to try to calm her. She wished for more time to comfort the girl. Time she didn't have, as proven when someone stepped into the room behind her.

That should never have happened. Natasha's well-honed instincts took over, and she drove her leg back into the person's stomach. Spinning around, she saw a handgun rattling into the corner of the room as a woman fell flat on her back. Good thing for her. If that woman had still been armed, Natasha likely would have put three bullets through her chest.

Natasha narrowed her eyes and raised her gun toward the woman's face. "Who are you?" she asked in a low, menacing growl. "What are you doing with her?"

The woman maintained her composure as she crawled backward on the floor. "Help! Help!"

"Wrong answer," Natasha said.

"No!" Priyanka pushed past Natasha and threw herself on top of the woman. "Don't!" she shouted, clutching the woman as tightly as she had Natasha.

From the hall outside, Natasha could hear the footsteps of several men. They were close. She was trapped in that room, with no way to get Priyanka out before they arrived.

The girl didn't even _want_ to escape. Why was she helping this woman? There was a possibility that she had a real reason for that. However, Natasha always suspected the worst. She knew from experience that people made excuses. That they often stood up for those that abused and manipulated them.

Keeping her gun up, Natasha studied the woman's face. That woman was staring back at her over Priyanka's shoulder. She was middle aged, with glasses and blonde hair that she kept tied up in a bun. Despite that, Natasha was able to tell that she was the same woman as the one in the picture upstairs. Her face was older and wearier now. More hardened. Even accounting for the stress of the current standoff, she didn't seem like a very happy sort.

"Drop the weapon!" a security guard yelled. He stormed into the room with three other men. They were all dressed in black and armed with submachine guns. "Drop the weapon!"

"If I go, then she does," Natasha replied.

"Leave her alone!" Priyanka yelled at the men. "She's my friend! Natasha!"

"Stand down!" the blonde woman yelled. The men lowered their guns, and Natasha did the same. The woman got up from the floor with Priyanka. "Agent Romanoff. I thought it was you."

"You know who I am?"

The woman chuckled. "_Everyone_ knows who you are."

"Hmm." Natasha nodded in acknowledgement of her unwanted fame. "And you are?"

"Dr. Judith Stanton," she said as she pushed her glasses up. "Psychologist. I'm the one SHIELD hired to run this Day Care."

"Why wasn't I told about this place? What's the Day Care even for?"

"It was created to be a sanctuary. Somewhere for the talented but...vulnerable young assets that SHIELD kept picking up."

"A sanctuary?" Natasha asked. It smelled of bullshit. Unsavory arrangements were often dressed up with better-sounding words. During her childhood inside a Russian training facility, her mentor had often told her how much he "loved" her. How everything he did was for _her_ good. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"I know what you're thinking, Agent Romanoff. But I assure you, the Day Care is no Red Room." Dr. Stanton tenderly placed her hand on Priyanka's shoulder. "My job is to look after these kids. To make sure they have some semblance of a normal upbringing."

Suspiciously, Natasha turned to Priyanka for her perspective.

The girl nodded in agreement. "She's nice."

"How many kids do you have in here anyway?" Natasha asked the Doctor.

"Including her? Seven. We were scheduled to receive some more, but I doubt that's gonna happen now."

"Did Director Fury know about this?"

"It was his idea. He wanted us to keep these kids safe. Separated from the rest of SHIELD."

Natasha seethed at the fact that Fury hadn't seen fit to keep her in the loop. She understood that compartmentalization was normal. That a lack of trust came with the territory. It was still a struggle not to project her feelings onto Dr. Stanton. "Separated until they were _ready_. Am I right?"

"Yes...Of course."

"Well you weren't exactly safe," Natasha said. "I busted right in here without any problems. No offense, but your security sucked."

"It was lot better a week ago," one of the guards said.

"Before half our guys yelled 'Hail Hydra' and tried to kill the rest of us." Stanton let out a wistful sigh. "Caught one of them sticking a needle in Priyanka's arm. I had to shoot him myself."

"You probably thought I was doing the same thing," Natasha said. "Sorry for the scare."

"My mistake," Stanton said. "By the way, how did you get down here?"

"I took Agent Brooks's card. We fought in the kitchen. He seemed real desperate to find something there."

One of the men laughed. "That would be the peanut butter."

"That's it?_ Really_?"

Stanton shrugged. "Give Larry a break. The guy was forced to shoot his best friend. After doing something like that, you'd look for small comforts wherever you can."

Natasha turned to the guard leader. "Why are you all still here? You should've left after the Hydra attack."

"We were ordered to take shelter in this bunker," he replied. "They told us to wait here for further instructions."

"Those instructions aren't gonna come. Big SHIELD doesn't exist anymore."

"What do you mean?" Dr. Stanton asked.

"If I'm right, and I usually am, the government has probably labeled SHIELD as a terrorist organization. They've been questioning a lot of agents. Arresting a whole bunch of us. You probably saw them raiding my house on the news."

"Did they get Director Fury?"

"No," Natasha said. "But that's because Director Fury is dead." Her statement drew gasps and confused looks from the others in the room. Natasha gave them a few moments to soak it all in, but she didn't offer any explanation. She knew how to lie, even if she hated doing it sometimes.

"What do we do now?" one of the guards finally asked.

"I suggest you leave. Take everyone here to Avengers Tower. My friend Tony Stark can protect you." That was if he hadn't already washed his hands of her...

"It's gonna take us a while to pack up," Stanton said.

"That's fine. I wanna look into a few things anyway."

* * *

_Three hours later_.

Natasha sat in Dr. Stanton's spare office on the other side of the bunker. On the desk, she had laid out all of the cell phones and computing devices taken from the Hydra agents who had been killed at the Day Care.

The devices had all been encrypted against any loyal SHIELD personnel outside of their secret circle. Not in any way that was particularly skillful though. The Day Care's tech expert could have probably broken in within minutes. But since he was lying in the freezer with a .45 caliber slug in his head, Natasha had been forced to do the job herself.

She had the last phone connected to Dr. Stanton's desktop computer, and she had just broken into it. This one belonged to a Level 6 agent named Randall Walker. Eagerly, she began to read through Walker's messages hoping to find a piece of crucial information that the other devices had lacked. _Come on. Give me something_...

The door opened, and Dr. Stanton stepped in. "The men are almost done. You find anything yet?"

"Let me see," Natasha said as one of the messages caught her eye. She focused and slowly read it out loud. "I want the other sister. Make sure she isn't harmed." The vague statement set Natasha's mind into motion, and she looked up at Stanton. "That came right after Hydra activated their sleepers. You know which girl they're referring to?"

"Well, we only _have_ three...Abby's mother was just sixteen when she had her. She died in a prison during childbirth. And Ling? She's from China, so I'm pretty sure she's an only child." Stanton sat down across the desk from Natasha and gave her a knowing look. "You're going after her, aren't you?"

"I have to. This is the first new lead on Sanjana in more than a year. Priyanka needs her."

"What she needs is some stability." Stanton sighed and shook her head. "You know, her birthday's coming up next week. Or at least the day we're calling her birthday. I was gonna throw her a little party, and then all this happened...I don't think it's wise to get any hopes up about her sister."

"I'm not gonna tell her in advance."

"I wasn't just referring to _Priyanka's_ hopes."

"It doesn't matter how I feel," Natasha said. She tried to deny her emotions, even as she felt them bubbling up again.

The girl's plight gave her focus, and purpose. Natasha hated what Priyanka had gone through, because she had experienced the same things during her own youth. Injustices that she needed to set right but knew that she never actually could. Natasha figured that if she didn't quite know how to be happy anymore, then she was going to ensure that Priyanka and Sanjana would grow up differently.

"Her sister is all she has," Natasha said. "You can't choose your family. Or replace it."

Stanton lowered her head. "Is that so?"

_**To be continued in Chapter 5: The Things They Say About Her**_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Stay tuned! While Natasha begins her search for the other sister, we'll be checking in on Steve Rogers in the next chapter!


	5. The Things They Say About Her

**Chapter Five**

**The Things They Say About Her**

_April 13, 2014_

_Dresden, Germany_

Dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, Steve sat in an armchair watching TV as the clock neared midnight. His friend and partner Sam Wilson was currently showering in the bathroom of their hotel suite. Sam was taking his time. He deserved to, because it was his first hot shower in three days.

For the past week and a half, they had been traveling across Eastern Europe in a futile search for Bucky Barnes. All they had to go on was the years-old intelligence from Natasha's Ukrainian friends. The intel was informative at least. Eye opening. It had led them to so many people, so many things. Things that Steve had never wanted to associate with his old friend.

There were the dirty businessmen and politicians who had benefitted from Hydra's operations. The hidden weapon caches, filled with guns but also with more primitive and sadistic tools of death. The abandoned lairs, with prison chambers still stained from the torture and execution of innocent victims. All of that stuff told a bitter story of the depths that people could stoop to, whether for an ideology or simply for selfish personal gain.

To Steve, it had felt like fishing in a cesspool. Even if he eventually found what he was looking for, he would come out the worse for it. The thing he cared so much to find had been tarnished forever.

Bucky – or the Winter Soldier as people called him now – had left gruesome scars all across the continent long before the events in Washington. He had taken out dozens of targets for Hydra, doing more to destabilize the world than most people could imagine. The very thought of that made Steve sick. He had trusted Bucky with his life, and now that trust was broken.

Just like Steve's trust in his country and his government. Everything had been so much clearer back then. You'd enlist to fight the Nazis or the Japanese, and all you'd have to worry about was the men in front of you. The ones at your sides, or issuing orders to you from behind the front lines, could be depended upon to do the right thing.

Okay, that was a simplification. A big one. But that's how it had _seemed_.

Now? SHIELD was dead. A victim of Hydra but also of its own ingrained corruption. Steve suspected that the American government, which was now investigating the agency, wasn't much better. If Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD, it could have infected any number of public institutions.

_Can't believe in anything these days_, Steve thought. He turned and glanced at his vibranium shield, which was leaning against the wall to his left. He had scraped off its red, white, and blue paint job, as he had for a number of covert missions before. It had always been easier to carry and conceal that way. Now, it was easier for him to look at as well.

Steve didn't feel right draping himself in the colors of the flag anymore. He was a nomad now, a man without a country. After trying so hard to understand modern America, he felt more like an alien to it than ever before. A part of him wanted to say to hell with it all. He wouldn't go that far, but he had thought to. And that hurt, almost as much as anything else he had endured.

Looking back at the TV, he saw that the rest of the American population was as divided as he was.

The TV was currently tuned to a big American news channel, which happened to be the only channel available in English there. It was displaying the results of a poll taken after the Washington incident, which showed that confidence in SHIELD had completely evaporated. The CIA, the NSA, Congress, and the President weren't doing much better with single digit approval ratings.

Paranoia was everywhere, and distrust had become the norm. Even those who accepted the government's integrity still questioned its competence. How could President Ellis, a man elected to protect the country after the Chitauri invasion, do his job if he couldn't even protect himself?

Only two groups still enjoyed broad approval from the American people: the military and the Avengers.

Of the Avengers though, only he, Captain America, the "Hero of Washington," had managed to maintain a strong individual rating above sixty percent. Steve frowned as he saw his teammates' poll results appearing on the screen one at a time, each lower than the last until the show finally reached Natasha.

"Last and certainly the least, we have the femme fatale herself, the so-called 'Black Widow'! Anyone actually surprised by this? 'Cause I'm not!"

Sipping ice water from a glass, Steve narrowed his eyes as the commentator ranted on. This man was Daniel Dunn, just one of the many names that Steve had jotted down in his notebook of things to catch up on.

"I said it before! I said it when Stark tried to sell action figures of her! This lil' lady's up to no good! She's no good for our kids, and she's no good for the rest of us!"

Dunn was an older man. He was heavyset, gray haired, but energetic. Overflowing with confidence and charisma. With his loud speech and animated movements, he came across as someone who was entirely sure of himself.

"Yeah, I know what _some _people will say. That she's one of the _good_ guys. That she's _so_ pretty. But look past the tight leather and the silky hair and the nice bod, and what do you have besides a tramp? A traitor, that's what."

Steve's hand tightened and he shattered his drinking glass without even trying to. Glass shards popped out onto the floor, and icy cold water ran down his hand and onto his bare leg. He didn't move to clean up the mess though.

_It's my fault_. It had been his idea to wipe out SHIELD along with Hydra. To expose all of their secrets for the world to see. He had left that dirty job to Natasha though. She was the one who had put her name on the line. The one who now had to answer to the government and suffer the media's attacks, all while he was free to run around on his personal wild goose chase. Steve was angry that Natasha couldn't be on the show to speak up for herself. That _he_ couldn't speak up for her either.

"Don't you see? This was Mother Russia's plan all along! They stick the Widow in SHIELD, in the Avengers, and she brings it all down from within! She's the best double agent they've had since President Ellis!"

The _hatred_ oozing from this man. This man who commanded an audience of two million people on TV, and ten times that amount on radio. Even growing up during the Depression, during the World War, Steve didn't think the news commentary was _this_ polarized. Not when speaking about fellow Americans, at least. There was nothing wrong with a negative opinion, but Steve didn't care for the trashy and disrespectful tone. The way that Dunn insulted, demeaned, and dehumanized his targets.

Steve wanted to say that it was too much to believe, but he had heard far worse from someone in actual office during the thirties and forties. Back then however, he had been in America listening to an extremist from Germany. Now, it was the other way around.

"I'm telling you, all you real Americans out there. We need to hunt her down! Make her pay for what she's done! Make them _all_ pay!"

Steve wanted to turn the channel, but he kept watching on. The passion, the exaggeration, the "us" versus "them"...those were the sparks that could enflame an entire nation. It was hard to watch but impossible to ignore.

"Now, now, I'm not being 'mean' or anything. Just saying it like it is. And I'm not the only one saying it either. A lot of stuff is coming out about her on the internet. Scary, scary stuff. We'll be getting to it all after the break."

"Aw man, how do you watch that crap?"

Steve turned and saw Sam walking out of the bathroom. Sam had a towel over his head and he was drying his hair.

"Dunn's so loud I could hear him from inside."

"Thought I'd turn the volume up just for you."

"Yeah, well next time, stick with the _Friends_ reruns. Even if they're in German." Sam looked down, stopping just in time to avoid stepping on some broken glass. "Whoa! What the hell?"

"Sorry about that." Steve got out of his seat and began to pick up the glass. "Guess I kinda lost my temper."

"I've been there before." Sam picked up the remote and turned off the TV. "Think you've had enough Daniel Dunn for tonight." Stretching his arms, he yawned before he headed for the room's double mattress bed.

Steve kept cleaning up as Sam settled in, not wanting to leave anything for the housekeepers. After several minutes, he was reasonably sure that the floor was clean and safe to walk on. Feeling tired as well, he turned off the lights and sat down on the armchair for some long awaited sleep.

Sam groaned. "What are you doing?"

"The bed's not that big. I'll just sleep over here."

"You haven't been on a bed in half a week. Now that might be fine if we're in a warzone, but we're not."

"It's okay, Sam. You're the one paying for this room."

"Yeah and there's no way I'm letting you sleep on that stupid chair. Now get your ass over here."

Steve got up and went to the bed. "Alright, you asked for it."

He pulled the blanket up and squeezed in next to Sam. Once on the bed, he slid all the way to the edge to give his friend more space. The mattress was "double" sized, but it had not been designed to accommodate two big, full-grown men.

There was a chill in the air, and Steve instinctively pulled the blanket in his direction.

Sam pulled it right back. "Next time it's king size. And you're paying."

"It was your idea to stay here."

"Hey, there were a lot of cute girls in the lobby." Sam turned to Steve and grinned. "Remember the one right in front of us? She wanted you. Bad."

Steve sighed. "Yeah. I could tell."

"So what was the problem?"

"She wanted a one night stand."

Sam laughed. "So what was the problem?"

"That's not how I do things."

"Just saying, man. Beggars can't be choosers."

"You're real cute, Sam," Steve said dryly. "Just like Natasha."

"Do me a favor, bro."

"What?"

"Don't ever say that again when we're lying in bed together." Sam yawned again and turned away, burying his face into his pillow.

Steve turned away as well to get some sleep, and he noticed that he was smiling. Despite recent events, despite his inability to find Bucky and all of the insanity going on back in the States, he was smiling. Briefly, but genuinely.

Sam. Natasha. They were true friends, the type you didn't make very much of in life. Steve was glad to have them, even if he had lost everything else. As he lay awake on his side, he considered just how important they had become to him. He thought that if he were smart, he'd hold on to them. At all costs.

Instead, he had left Natasha to fend for herself and dragged Sam along on a foolish and dangerous quest to find Bucky. Bucky, the man he had _once_ regarded as a true friend. Steve wanted to believe that his old buddy was still alive somewhere inside the Winter Soldier. That belief had hindered him during the Triskelion battle and pushed the world to the very brink of disaster. He had given Bucky his mercy, and Bucky had returned it by shooting him and raining punches down upon his face.

Perhaps Bucky was gone forever. Steve had lost his friend, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing the ones he had now...

_Should really get some sleep_, he told himself. He and Sam were going to hit another suspected Hydra lair in the morning. All of the leads they had accumulated so far suggested that this would be a big one. Steve knew that he should either focus on that or prepare himself by getting some rest. His thoughts, however, lay elsewhere.

_Good luck, Nat. Wherever you are._

_**To be continued in Chapter 6: Taking Names**_

_**Natasha's about to receive some help. But it's not what she expects!**_


	6. Taking Names

**Chapter Six**

**Taking Names**

_April 14, 2014_

_New York City, NY_

Traffic in Lower Manhattan. It was often bumper-to-bumper, and it seemed to grind to a complete halt near every other intersection. Crowds of pedestrians liked to cross the streets even after the lights turned green, and in response, drivers up to five cars back would honk their horns as if it would do any good.

All of that had become quite familiar to Natasha over the past several years, and there was a certain comfort to be found in familiarity. She still didn't like being stuck in it though after such a long trip from Minnesota. It was about time for her to leave anyway.

"Take the wheel in a few minutes," she said to Agent Brooks. "I'll be leaving soon."

Brooks looked at her, and so did Dr. Stanton and Priyanka from the back seat.

"You're not coming with us?" Priyanka asked. She gave Natasha a pleading look with her mouth hanging slightly open.

Natasha had seen that look before, because she had once coached Priyanka on how to improve it for greater effect. With her well-trained eyes, she had been able to identify subtle artificialities in the girl's expressions. Those flaws weren't apparent this time because Priyanka wasn't faking it.

"I'm sorry," Natasha said with a frown. "There's something I need to take care of."

Stanton looked out the side window and sighed. She still wasn't onboard with the plan, believing instead that Natasha should stay and help take care of Priyanka. As if the girl's older sister didn't need any finding.

Natasha wasn't going to argue that with her again, so she turned to Brooks instead as the traffic began to flow enough for her to drive again. "Just get everyone to the Tower. Remember to drive around Times Square." SHIELD's regional headquarters was there, but it was undoubtedly drowning in FBI and CIA by now. Best to avoid the area entirely.

"You're sure Stark will be fine with this?" Brooks asked. "Us showing up unannounced?"

"He probably _won't_ be. But he'll take you guys in. Just show him this." Natasha dug her Avengers membership card out of her pocket and handed it to him. "He'll know you're with me."

"Yeah, no way I'd be able to kill you for that, right?"

"Look, I'm sorry about the kitchen, but you started it." Natasha gave him a smile, which didn't do anything to change his mood.

Still, Brooks nodded in agreement and took her card. "You know, you could just stop by before you depart. Any reason why you won't?"

"With all that's happened in the past week, things could get difficult. I'd like to avoid that."

"Yeah, it's easier to just walk away," Stanton said. "Not like they need you there or anything."

_Whatever_, Natasha thought as she stopped at an intersection. Taking off her seatbelt, she put on a sweet face and turned around to say goodbye to Priyanka. "Alright. This where I'm getting off."

Priyanka unbuckled her seatbelt and practically jumped forward into Natasha's arms. "I'll miss you...Come back soon."

"Don't worry. I will." Natasha tried to comfort the girl as she had during their reunion at the Day Care. They had _both_ been swept up by their emotions then. Scared, exposed, and vulnerable. But now, without fear and uncertainty clouding her thoughts, Natasha felt self-aware instead. All of this hugging was making her uncomfortable.

_I'm no good at this_, she thought as she mechanically patted the girl's back. Natasha cared for her, but she preferred to do so through actions. By finding her sister. She'd do so with or without a blessing from Dr. Stanton, who was now watching her in disapproval. "I'll be back before you know it," Natasha said, speaking to both of them.

Several drivers behind them honked their horns, and Priyanka finally let go.

"Cheer up," Natasha said. "You're gonna like it at the Tower." With that, she opened the car door and got out.

Moving quickly from the street to the sidewalk, she saw the other two vehicles in their convoy. Only half of the surviving agents at the Day Care had decided to come along. The rest had gone their separate ways, in search of whatever life they could possibly find for themselves.

Natasha envied their choice. A choice that was never hers to make. Her job wasn't easy, which was why it had to be done.

_My job_. That implied that she was still getting paid, but no longer could she travel the world and live it up with the expectation that big SHIELD would pick up the tab. The agency had just ceased to exist, meaning she wasn't even getting paychecks anymore.

Natasha had savings of sixty thousand dollars hidden within several bank accounts and stores of cash. However, it wouldn't last very long if her search for Sanjana turned into a drawn-out, globetrotting operation. Flights and hotel stays tended to add up very quickly, just like weapons, supplies, and bribes to corrupt officials.

When, not if, her funds ran out, things would get even harder for her. She'd have to figure out what to do next in that eventuality. Begging Tony Stark for money was not something she wanted to do, nor did she see it as a viable option going forward.

For now though, she still possessed resources with which to work with. Her secret safe house was less than a mile away, inside the Little Ukraine neighborhood of the Lower East Side. The rarely used sanctuary was actually a single room. It was hidden behind a little hole in the wall restaurant owned by the Kravchenkos, an elderly couple she had once rescued and brought to the US.

The Kravchenkos had told her that she could always take shelter on their property. That need hadn't existed before, certainly not with Avengers Tower located less than three miles to the north. However, Natasha had been wise enough to prepare the place for days like this.

Inside her room, she had stored several firearms and boxes of ammunition. She even had a special SHIELD-issued luggage case there, which could sneak her gear through the metal detectors and X-ray machines used by airport security. A bigger challenge would be for Natasha to get _herself_ through an airport, now that all of her existing covers had been blown.

Luckily, she also had a few extra passports in her safe house. These she had once charmed out of an unscrupulous employee at a Belgian embassy. The passports were blank, but they had been legitimately produced. That was important since a false passport made from scratch was rather easy to spot. Filling out a blank passport and forging an accompanying ID card was still a painstaking process, but that was achievable for someone with her skills.

_Belgium. They speak French over there._ She thought about what name to take as she made her way toward her safe house. Without a regular life to tie her down, names were very easy for her to pick up and discard.

Nathalie Rousseau was the first name to come to mind. Nicolette Roche came right after. Both cultural adaptations of her true name and initials. She could and probably should think of another French name that wasn't so obvious. Using similar names before had been a fun little game, one that she had been able to get away with back when there wasn't so much heat on her. Even if she couldn't do it for real anymore, she still liked to play that game in her head. A little fun went a long way toward keeping yourself sane during trying times.

She hadn't even truly started on this new mission of hers, and she could already tell that it was going to be a tough one. All of her thoughts about money, travel, supplies, and aliases were premature, because she still lacked a single suspect to chase after.

Whoever had ordered those Hydra thugs to take Priyanka had been savvy enough to cover his or her tracks. This had been accomplished using many of the same tricks that Natasha employed herself. Nothing that Natasha had found so far in her files was any help in identifying who she was up against. So far, all she could tell was that this person was good. _Very_ good.

Knowing that she would have to pore through her files again, Natasha sighed and lowered her head as she walked on. She hoped that her sunglasses and her sand-colored fedora would keep people from recognizing her, even in the city where the Black Widow had first become famous to the public. Getting stopped by some gushing fanboy, or even worse, a cop, was not an option. That was downright _dangerous_ now, and she had far too much work to do to put up with that.

Her phone suddenly rang. Taking it out, she saw that it had come from one of her informants named Gaspard Dervishi.

Natasha hesitated, almost in disbelief about getting a possible break. _Give me something. Please._

* * *

_Marseille, France_

The Russian Avenger. The Slavic Shadow. The Red Death. The Black Widow.

_They have so many names for her_, thought Gaspard as he stared at the woman's number in his cell phone screen. He was even more nervous than usual about calling her.

Within the underworld of international crime and terrorism, the Widow's exploits had become the stuff of folklore. She was a legend, a horror story, and a cautionary tale. Someone that cell leaders and cartel bosses made sure to warn their men about, lest their careless actions bring her wrath down upon them all.

From speaking with his friends in the Albanian mob, Gaspard had learned to fear and respect her name long before he ever had a face to link it to. However, he had never believed that he would actually meet her. Not as someone who merely smuggled drugs and undocumented people between the continents. Those things hadn't interested SHIELD the way that high technology and weapons of mass destruction did.

But the Black Widow had come to him anyway, a year ago as he was lying in bed on the verge of sleep. With his eyes closed, he had first noticed her presence from the ghostly feeling of her breath against his face. He quickly opened his eyes, but the sight of her rendered him unable to defend himself.

She was hauntingly beautiful, with long locks of wavy red hair and piercing green eyes. For a moment, Gaspard thought that he was dreaming. That "dream" quickly transformed into a nightmare when she slid a knife beneath his chin.

Her face twisted into a scowl, and she laid out the facts: That he had snuck a bunch of people into Europe the week before and that several of them had gotten together to blow up an embassy. She told him that governments were angry. That SHIELD had ordered her not to come back without killing someone.

Speaking more softly, she told him that she knew of his desire to leave his life of crime behind. With the tip of her knife still gently pressed into his neck, she had offered him a deal. If Gaspard would help her find the ones responsible for planning the attack, SHIELD would be lenient on him when they eventually decided to take down his boss's trafficking operations. If not, then she would make him beg for the mercy of death.

That night more than a year ago was seared into his memory. The night when he had begun to spy on his friends and colleagues, afraid to be caught by them but also far too afraid to defy the Widow's orders.

Not that she had ever allowed him to forget their arrangement. Even after she had eliminated those terrorist leaders, she had contacted him again and again with descriptions of other people for him to look out for. Her total list of targets was now quite long and varied, so much that Gaspard had often worried about forgetting to spot someone.

But though he had remained vigilant, most of the Widow's targets had never appeared to him. Months had gone by since he had last been able to provide her with a useful report.

His recent lack of results was partially the reason why Gaspard was so uneasy that night. After so much time and after everything else that had happened, the Widow might not even believe him if he were to suddenly contact her about the one person she wanted to find the most. "We shouldn't be calling her," he said as he lowered the phone. "SHIELD isn't even around anymore..."

"The Black Widow will kill you," said the woman standing near his bed. "Call her. You don't have a choice."

Gaspard took a deep breath, before he pushed the button to send out a call. He heard the phone ring, but he received no immediate response. _Why isn't she answering?_ he thought. He was a dead man. He was sure of that...

After the fourth ring, she finally replied. "What is it, Gaspard? This better be good."

"It's that Indian girl you wanted. The teenager."

"_Sanjana_?" the Widow asked. Her usual steely tone had wavered a bit, giving off a hint of excitement. "Can you confirm that?"

"Yes. She had a star-shaped scar on her neck. Just like you said."

The Widow paused, and Gaspard was sure that she suspected him of lying. However, his fears were allayed several seconds later when she asked him another question. "Where is she now?"

"My colleagues and I handed her off five hours ago. I tried to free her, but I couldn't get close enough to do it."

"And why is that?"

"It was a big shipment. Lots of girls. Lots of security."

The Widow let out a frustrated sigh. "Can you identify the customer? Or at least tell me where they were taking her?"

"No," Gaspard said, sounding fearful without even trying to. "I'm sorry. They wouldn't tell me anything. Think I heard something about Paris though."

"Alright...Thank you, Gaspard. Guess you were finally good for _something_."

He chuckled nervously. "Glad I could help."

"Keep me updated. I'll call if I have any more questions." She hung up a moment later.

Gaspard exhaled in relief. _I did it_, he thought. _She believed me. It's over_...

He suddenly heard a distinctive click behind him. The cocking of a pistol.

"What?!" Gaspard spun around, dropping his phone as he did so.

The blonde woman was staring at him with her icy blue eyes. Her lips were curled into a wicked smile, and her handgun was pointed straight at his head.

"_Why_?" he asked as he backed up against the wall. "I told her what you wanted!"

"Yes, you did," the woman said. "And you're a wonderful liar. Unfortunately, I don't trust you to keep doing it with any consistency."

"You said you'd let me go!"

"No, Gaspard," she replied with a giggle. "All I said was that the Black Widow will kill you."

He couldn't even beg before she pulled the trigger.

_**To be continued in Chapter 7: Out of Control**_

_**Things aren't looking good, but at least Natasha's new friends will make it to Avengers Tower. For Tony Stark and Pepper Potts though, the timing couldn't be any worse!**_


	7. Out of Control

**Chapter Seven**

**Out of Control**

_Avengers Tower_

Tony Stark moved quickly through the hall, doing little to conceal his hurry from Pepper Potts. She was his girlfriend, but right then she was more concerned with being the CEO of his company. That meant talking on and on about the damn press conference he had just survived.

"You have an incoming call, Sir," JARVIS said.

"Who is it?"

"It's Senator Wallace of –."

"I'm not here." Tony entered the team lounge and continued toward his bar.

Pepper sighed. "Everyone with a TV knows you're here."

"Yeah, well the Tower's a big place. People get lost in here all the time."

Tony reached the bar and went straight for a bottle of his favorite scotch. That press conference had been brutal. He was used to the cameras and the publicity. If anything, he had usually thrived on that stuff. This time, however, had been different.

This time, he had called in the media to discuss Stark Industries' new global security initiative in the wake of SHIELD's downfall. His company, as well as the Avengers team that it funded, would be expanding operations in his boldest effort yet to privatize world peace. As a representative of both organizations, he had gone out to reassure the public that their safety was still in good hands.

The reporters, however, had been more interested in stirring up a scandal. Half of their damn questions had been about the Black Widow.

Had Tony seen those old SHIELD reports on her? How much had he known before? Had he looked the other way because his team needed a killer? What did the Avengers plan on doing with her now that it was all out in the open? How could anyone trust them as long as she was on the roster?

The reporters hadn't asked themselves one simple question before all of that, which was, "What the hell kind of answer do we _expect_ from him?"

As much as anyone else, Tony was unnerved by Natasha's history. However, the idea that he should call her out in front of the entire world was ridiculous. He could say anything about Romanoff, but what people had to consider was what _she_ would do in response. Did anyone really want to be on the bad side of a pissed off Russian assassin?

Tony couldn't just throw her out either, despite being the one who paid all of the team's bills. He'd first have to consult with Steve, the field leader of the Avengers, whenever the Captain decided to show up again. Even then, Steve would probably want to give Natasha a chance to come back and speak for herself. He had worked closely with her before, and Tony had always known of their special relationship within the team.

Taking that into consideration, and realizing that there weren't any good responses to the situation, Tony had decided to stick with Pepper's advice. All he had told the reporters was that he was taking the revelations very seriously, and that the Avengers would soon reevaluate the Black Widow's membership status.

It hadn't been easy, dancing around all of the reporters' questions like that. Pretending that he wasn't scared about where everything was headed, and that he still possessed complete confidence in his team. Romanoff had made a real mess of things, and Tony didn't know what the hell to do with her.

That especially bothered him because he hated uncertainty. Always had. It was so much better for him to keep moving in a clear direction. His direction.

Over the last several years, that had meant the construction of his Iron Man armors. Building things had usually been good for easing his tension. And with the world turned upside down, he had more reason than ever to work on his new design.

After having that drink, of course.

"Sir," JARVIS said, "I strongly advise that you respond."

"Would if I were here." Tony poured himself a couple of ounces and took a sip. "JARVIS, bring up those blueprints again. Mark Forty-Three."

JARVIS paused for a few seconds before it responded. "As you wish."

It had replied in its usual cool and detached manner, but Tony wondered what his AI was _really_ thinking about him. Just for a brief moment before several three-dimensional holograms appeared above his bar counter.

"Last chance, Sir. Shall I tell Senator Wallace to leave a message?"

Pepper groaned and plopped herself down on a nearby couch. "Transfer the call to my phone. _I'll_ take care of it."

Tony gave her a mischievous smile. "Thanks Honey."

She just glared in response as she raised her phone to her ear.

_Yikes_. Tony turned back to his blueprints. He'd have to apologize and maybe take her out to dinner to make up for this later.

"I understand your concerns, Senator," Pepper said, "but we don't know where she is." Tony could hear her shifting as she sat up straight on the couch. "Until we can meet with her again, the Black Widow's membership remains under review."

The Senator screamed at her through the phone, almost unintelligibly. From his seat at the bar, all Tony could get was that the guy was pissed.

"That's not true," Pepper said, clearly struggling to maintain her composure. "And I don't appreciate your accusations." For the next minute, she and the Senator went back and forth without getting anywhere.

All of the noise was making it hard to work. "Hey," Tony said, "you mind keeping it down?"

Pepper covered her phone with one hand and looked up at him. "You mind taking this from me?"

"No," Tony blurted out. "I mean, yes." Again, he tried to charm her with a smile. It didn't work, but Pepper quickly resumed her argument with the Senator. Tony decided that he would just have to filter out the noise as best he could. He _really_ needed to finish his new design...

How foolish of him to think that he could retire. To think that he could focus on his life with Pepper, content that the rest of his Avengers team could keep the world safe. Hydra had taught him otherwise though. They had shown him that fear often existed for good reasons, and that those reasons wouldn't go away just because he ignored them.

Now he was truly vulnerable, _naked_ because of his rash decision to blow up all of his suits more than a year ago. People tended to react to things in extremes, and he could think of no greater example of that than himself.

At least he was beginning to address those mistakes of his. Soon he would have his armor again, allowing him to take charge as Stark Industries devoted even greater resources into the Avengers.

He had already remodeled his tower and hired an extensive, full-time staff to support the team's operations. There were now in-house cooking, medical, maintenance, and communications crews living and working right there in the building. Tony had even gotten his buddy President Ellis to issue an executive order to leave Avengers Tower alone, barring federal agencies and the military from spying on it. Everything was in place.

Everything except for the Avengers themselves. Most of his teammates were currently scattered around the globe, while Thor wasn't even _on_ the globe. At least Steve, Bruce, and Clint had been nice enough to call. A mere assurance that they were safe was all Tony expected from most of his teammates.

"No, Senator," Pepper said. "We're _not_ hiding Natasha Romanoff, _or_ Maria Hill. But you should know that Ms. Hill is now an employee of Stark Industries, and that we will continue to support her with the full weight of our legal department."

Maria Hill, the former SHIELD commander and right hand to Director Fury, had joined his company not long after her agency's downfall. She and Tony hadn't always seen eye to eye, but they both agreed that the world needed protection in the turbulent new post-SHIELD era.

Hill had just settled into her new job before she was summoned to appear before Congress. The politicians had needed _someone_ to pick on, after Romanoff had so boldly walked away from them. So Hill had gone and given her own testimony, which she completed before she called about being monitored by several government agents. That was the last that Tony and Pepper had heard from her. Not long after that, she had mysteriously disappeared just as Natasha had.

_Wonder what they're up to..._

Maria was a spy, a bit of a hardass but generally an honest person. Tony felt comfortable in the belief that she would do the right thing. Hell, during her short time on the job so far, _she_ had been the one bugging _him_ about keeping things on the straight and narrow. As frustrating as it could be, her unshakeable integrity was half the reason why he had even hired her. It was good to know that she could be trusted.

Unlike Natasha.

_Should've known better_. Yes, he should have about a woman who had first approached him under a false identity. Despite welcoming her into his tower as a fellow Avenger, Tony had never learned that much about her past. Not until a week ago when he had been caught off guard by her shameful secrets.

Romanoff's leaks had brought him so much trouble, but that wasn't all. The deception had torn at Tony's very perception of the Avengers, a team that he had begun to see as more than just a group of colleagues.

As Steve had once put it, the Avengers were a family. It was such a cornball idea, typical old-fashioned sentimentality. Tony had laughed about it at Steve's expense, but he also had to admit to thinking that way himself sometimes.

It was hard to cut off family. You were always indebted to them in some way, even if they were horrible and drove you insane. Aside from caution, that was why Tony hadn't taken a stronger stance on Natasha yet. If not for her mass info dump, he never would have learned the truth about his father.

Howard Stark was one of the first names that Tony had searched for after the big leak. He had known that his father was a founding member of SHIELD. It had been Dad's big secret, his life's work. Often more important to him than anything else.

What Howard hadn't known back then was that Hydra had turned SHIELD against him. Those Nazis would go on to murder him along with Tony's mother. They had made their murders look like a car accident, and Tony had believed that cover-up since he was just twenty-years-old. The entire course of his adult life had been set by that lie.

That made Hydra's recent uprising even more than a world-threatening crisis. To Tony Stark, it was personal.

He needed to know that his father didn't waste their lives. All of those long hours working away from home. All of those lost years between them. It couldn't have been for nothing. Tony wouldn't allow it to be. That was why he was now picking up the pieces and trying to take over for the old man. SHIELD was dead but the Avengers weren't. Not yet at least.

The irony of his new situation was not lost on Tony. He felt as though he was becoming just like his father, the person he had hated and rejected as a young man. He could see now that his father cast a long shadow, one that was still following him long after he had seemingly broken free.

These thoughts and more weighed heavily on Tony's mind. So many things seemed out of his hands, and the sense of control that he desperately desired just wasn't coming. He could only work on his armor...and maybe pour himself a little more scotch.

"Ugh," Pepper said. Tony looked up and saw her lowering her phone. "What a jerk."

"Now you know why I don't talk to politicians," Tony said. He was about to make a smartass remark, but he stopped himself when he saw how upset she was. "You seem stressed out. Why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off?"

Pepper gave him a frustrated look. That same look she always gave him whenever he was being a dumbass. "I'm not like you, Tony. Just because you say I'm off doesn't mean I don't have any more work to do."

"Don't tell me you're planning another press conference."

"No. I was thinking about something a little more...political."

"Aw come on! What did we just go over right now?"

"Tony, I hate this stuff as much as you do. But with everything going on right now with our new plans, and Hill, and this Romanoff scandal, we can really use the good press." Her face tensed up at the mere mention of all of that, but she quickly eased her expression. "They're not gonna stop talking about us, so we might as well go out there and defend ourselves."

"Huh..." Tony gritted his teeth, knowing that she was right but reluctant to accept the ordeal.

"Look, I know you've got other things going on. You don't have to take this one if you don't want to. I can handle it." Pepper gave him a warm, reassuring smile. "After all, I can handle _you_."

Something about the way she had said that really lifted Tony's spirits. She was his rock. Even in the worst of times, she reminded him that it could be better. That there were things worth fighting for.

"That you can," Tony said with a grin. He felt a sense of joy that he hadn't had all day, and he wanted more of it. "Say...How's about we _both_ take a break? A few minutes could do us some real good."

Pepper paused and checked her phone, clearly conflicted about the idea. After some deliberation, she put it down and turned back to him with a suggestive look in her eyes. "You think you can get it done in a few minutes?"

The whirring of helicopter blades suddenly caught Tony's attention, keeping him from accepting with a timely comeback.

"An aircraft is approaching the Tower," JARVIS said. "It appears to be Ms. Hill."

Tony let out a long sigh. "_Now_ she comes back."

He and Pepper then looked at each other before they both ran outside to their helipad. In less than a minute, wind was sweeping over them as a helicopter descended onto the platform. Its side door opened, and out stepped a tired-looking Maria Hill.

Pepper rushed forward before she had even set both feet on the landing pad. "Maria!" To Hill's surprise, Pepper embraced her. "Thank God you're safe." Hill stood uncomfortably for several seconds before she surrendered and hugged Pepper in return.

"You know, that's not very professional," Tony said, smiling as he walked up to them. "Not that I have a problem with it, but this company _does_ have rules against unwanted touching."

"Shut up, Tony." Pepper held on to Hill for a little while longer before she let go. Despite the fact that Hill had spent less than a week with them, she and Pepper seemed to have become fast friends.

"Where'd you get the ride?" Tony asked.

"Had it stored in one of our old SHIELD depots," Hill said. "By the way, nice to see you too."

"Okay, better question. What the hell have I been paying you for all week?"

"It's a long story. Let's just say I'm not the government's favorite person right now."

"None of us are," Pepper said. She put her hand on Hill's shoulder and began to lead her back toward the lounge. "Come on. We can talk inside."

"Were you with Romanoff?" Tony asked.

"No, but I'd _like_ to know where she is. She's caused me a lot of headaches lately."

Tony chuckled. "Ain't that the truth."

They walked indoors, but JARVIS made another announcement before they could even sit down. "Sir, I'm sorry to bother you again but we have a number of guests down in the lobby. Five SHIELD agents, a civilian doctor, and seven minors."

"Excuse me?" Pepper walked over to the nearest viewing screen and turned it to the lobby camera. Sure enough, there were thirteen people standing in front of the security desk. Most of them were kids.

"It seems that Agent Romanoff sent them here," JARVIS said.

Tony looked over at Pepper and Hill. "Well speak of the Devil."

_**To be continued in Chapter 8: Shadows of History**_

_**With no one else to turn to, Natasha will enlist the aid of an old acquaintance in Paris. But will that be enough?**_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay between this chapter and the previous one. I've been real busy and the weekly developments on _Marvel's Agents of SHIELD_ haven't been making it any easier!

Don't worry if you haven't seen the show because I won't expect you to keep up with it. One of my opinions on _Avengers_ fanfiction is that it should be easily understood by anyone who has just seen the movies.

On the other hand, I do like to work hard and make my fanfics consistent with canon for the people who do follow everything. Because of that, I haven't been able to ignore the show either.

I won't be using any of its major characters, nor will I be tying into the specifics of its plot. However, the show _has_ touched upon some of the same subjects that I intend to cover in my story. These include the fate of SHIELD and the breakdown of trust in our heroes and government after the events of _The Winter Soldier_. This is all very relevant to my story, which has Natasha being publically disgraced and forced to go on the run.

(If you look closely at the last few chapters, the situation changed from "Natasha is taking leave from SHIELD" to "SHIELD is gone and being hunted down by the government." That's an example of what I've had to deal with lately!)

Fortunately, things will probably be easier going forward. It'll be a few months at least before canon throws me any more curveballs. I'll try to return to a regular schedule with one or two updates per week from here on out.

Thanks for being patient with me. I appreciate all of my readers, especially those of you who have been nice enough to leave a review. Keep commenting, I'd really like to see your feedback!


	8. Shadows of History

**Chapter Eight**

**Shadows of History**

_April 16, 2014_

_Tuileries Garden_

_Paris, France_

A cool spring breeze washed against Natasha's face as she walked up a wide path through the middle of the park. She was wearing a black beret and sunglasses, and with her designer trench coat and knee-high boots, she had blended in quite nicely on the streets of this stylish city. Not quite as much in the park though. While the Tuileries was as beautiful as any pricy neighborhood in Paris, its renown also attracted a wider variety of people.

Even late into the afternoon, the place was packed with families and groups of tourists. All around, they were strolling together and posing for pictures under the lush green trees that lined both sides of the path. If these people were aware of the rain that had been forecasted for the evening, they certainly weren't acting like it.

Amid all of their enjoyment, Natasha felt a need to stop and look around. She wasn't taking in the scenery though. Rather, she suspected someone of following her.

Casually, she reached into the left pocket of her trench coat for her phone. It would give her an excuse to stand still for half a minute and see what the young man behind her would do in response. Checking her messages, she saw that Gaspard still hadn't replied to her latest round of questions yet. Clearly, she would have to put the fear back into him. That was something for later though, because right then she had far more pressing concerns...

The man didn't walk past her as quickly as would be expected. He had either slowed down or stopped completely.

With mounting tension, Natasha uncurled the fingers of her right hand and lowered it to her side. She had one of her Glocks hidden there inside a pocket holster.

_He's not gonna do anything_, Natasha told herself. _Not here_.

The Tuileries was located next to several landmarks and one of Paris's most well-known public squares. It was as in the open as you could get. Public areas were supposed to be safe, and it had been no surprise to Natasha when her contact in French intelligence had requested to meet her there. The logic was that no one was going to shoot it out with you in front of hundreds of eyewitnesses.

Of course, conventional wisdom hadn't stopped the Winter Soldier from doing just that on the streets of D.C. All of the old rules of the game had changed, almost overnight. The threats were bolder now, more ruthless. Natasha knew that she had to accept that reality and be prepared for anything. If that meant drawing her Glock, then so be it.

Finally, the young man walked by. He didn't stare at her, but Natasha also didn't see him looking around in other directions. His speed did not escape her attention either. It had been slow and steady at first, but it had gotten just a little bit faster the moment after he had passed her. _What are you up to?_ Natasha thought as she observed him from behind. Her suspicions didn't cease until the man greeted a woman and two children further down the path. _Nothing_._ Good._

Paranoia was tough to live with, even for someone as seasoned as she was. Natasha decided to give herself a few moments to relax.

She kept looking on as the father goofed around with his kids. Studying people's behavior was second nature to her. It allowed her to understand and exploit them. To imitate them in other situations if need be. Based on how intently she was watching, Natasha realized that the man's behavior seemed almost alien. She had never done anything like that, not even with Priyanka.

_Enough. That's not what she needs from you_.

Moving on, Natasha walked past the family and into a wide, open space ringed with lifelike nude sculptures. Before her was a large pool of water with a fountain in the middle of it. This was probably the most crowded spot in the Tuileries, with many people seated in green metal chairs around the water basin. It was a great place to sit and look up at the landmarks beyond the eastern end of the park.

From where she stood, Natasha could see a massive triple-arched monument adorned with statues of soldiers from centuries ago. In the distance, the world famous Louvre Museum loomed even larger, looking every bit like the palace it had once been.

The great view made this place a bit _too_ public, which was why her contact had asked to meet her somewhat off to the side.

Natasha turned left and proceeded toward a row of trees near the fenced off edge of the park. There were benches in front of those trees, which were well spaced apart and not too crowded with people. Just the right balance of openness and privacy. A decent place for a meeting with someone whose colleagues she didn't trust at all.

Natasha quickly found the man she was looking for on one of the benches. His briefcase lay beside him, free from his hands as he faced east with a relaxed look on his face. He seemed to be enjoying the view almost as much as the tourists were.

"Bonjour, Vincent," Natasha said, surprising him as she sat down on the other end of his bench. "Comment allez-vous?" _How are you?_

Vincent Leroux replied with apparent nervousness. "I'm good, Natasha. I'm good...You said you'd come from the Louvre."

"Thought I'd see the park instead."

She had been a young new agent of SHIELD when she had saved his life eight years ago. At the time, Vincent was already a veteran member of France's Directorate of Territorial Surveillance. Even then, he had had one foot inside of the cushy office that they were about to promote him to.

Natasha remembered that as she noticed his rounded belly sticking out from his open suit jacket. "I hope that desk hasn't been too hard on you."

"I shouldn't complain," Vincent said with a shrug. "But the hours are long, and the days are dull. Getting a call from you has been the most excitement I've had all month." He leaned in, speaking to her more softly. "You're a _very_ desirable woman, Natasha. _Everyone_ wants to have you these days."

Natasha just kept looking at him nonchalantly, choosing not to entertain his latest advances. "My relationship status is complicated. Always has been."

As he had many times before, Vincent nodded before he settled back into his own seat. He had never had a problem with getting her hints. He just couldn't seem to remember any of them for more than a few minutes.

"Enough about me though," Natasha said. "I'm here to talk about the girl."

"I haven't seen her. Paris is a big city. One girl can be impossible to find."

"Yes, but not the people who have her. My Albanian informant told me she'd be here. I was hoping you could tell me more about the city's trafficking problem."

"What trafficking problem?" Vincent chuckled as he looked down and shook his head. "The mob controlled everything up until a few years ago. That's when SHIELD came in and cleaned it all up. Problem solved."

"Is that the official position? Because we both know that SHIELD has been declared a terrorist group."

"Perhaps in America, but over here is a different story. The SHIELD agents in this country have made all the right friends in all the right places. I've been ordered not to touch them." Vincent stopped and eyed a man as he walked by. To his relief as well as Natasha's, the man kept on walking into the park. "Besides, if what you say is true, then what does that make you?"

Natasha paused for a moment as she considered her response. "Someone with a lot of enemies."

"Surely not in Paris. When those agents first arrived, they claimed to be working with _you_."

"Me?" Natasha asked, intrigued by his words.

"The Black Widow."

"And what have they been doing for me, exactly?"

"Hard to say. Girls come into this city, same as before. They don't ship out though."

Natasha tightened her fist. She had seen and heard a lot in her life, but what Vincent was telling her now really got under her skin. Every emotion boiling inside of her made Natasha want to chew this guy out for tolerating this brazen corruption. Unfortunately, she needed his help and would have to keep things professional. She couldn't help asking for his point of view though. "And you're fine with this?"

"Not at all," Vincent said, with a hint of weariness in his voice. He quickly brightened up though and smiled at her. "But I know better than to make an enemy of the Black Widow."

Natasha nodded. "So tell me, where is this little operation of theirs?"

"It's all underground. Where people are scared to go."

"Is it in the Goutte d'Or? The banlieues?" Those infamous neighborhoods, which were rarely mentioned when speaking of this glamorous city, were rife with trafficking and prostitution. If a corrupt SHIELD outfit wanted to make a little money on the side, then those places were where they could get away with it.

"No," Vincent said with a laugh. "When I said it was underground, I was speaking literally." He stopped for a second to let that sink in. "I'm referring to the _catacombs_."

Natasha groaned. "You can't be serious."

Paris was "The City of Lights," but its surface concealed an ugly underworld that few people could imagine. The earth there was rich in limestone, and it had been extensively mined by the Romans when they were first constructing the city. Over the centuries, that mining was continued by one generation after another. The result was nearly two hundred miles of tunnels, a tangled and dangerous labyrinth that still hadn't been completely mapped to this day.

Adding a sinister twist to those tunnels was the fact that they had been turned into a mass subterranean grave. With limited burial space, eighteenth century Parisians had seen fit to dig up entire cemeteries so that their human remains could be dumped into the tunnels instead. Enormous piles of bones were down there from an estimated six million skeletons. There were more dead people underground than there were citizens living on the streets above, all mixed up and with no hints of who they had once been in life.

Filled with death, the uncharted and not entirely stable tunnels had been mostly kept off limits to modern generations. That hadn't stopped the French Resistance from using them during World War II, nor had it deterred the Nazis and their Hydra comrades. Natasha knew from reading an intelligence primer on the area that several tunnel sections had been turned into secret supply routes and bomb shelters. From that, it wasn't too hard for her to imagine now that corrupt elements of SHIELD may have pressed some of those facilities back into service.

"Having second thoughts?" Vincent asked.

"I don't scare that easily," Natasha said. "We can go tonight if you're up for it."

Vincent widened his eyes as he stared at her. "We?"

"_Oui_," Natasha said with a smile. "Listen, with all the corruption here, we need to keep this under the radar. That means no police, or anyone else from your agency."

"Understood," he said, still sounding hesitant about the endeavor. "Tell me though, how many agents are you working with? In case someone else approaches me."

"Just myself."

"So you're all alone...Where's that boyfriend of yours? The archer."

"We're just colleagues. And he's not my partner anymore."

Vincent seemed to perk up a bit at that piece of information. "You know, I never got along with him. He was a bit of a hothead."

"I agree. Clint doesn't suffer fools very well."

Vincent laughed, clearly trying to brush off her insult. "I always liked your sense of humor." He turned his body sideways in her direction and made another pass at her. "But about tonight, we really shouldn't go rushing into the catacombs. A little preparation would be prudent. We can talk some more in a café I know. It's got the best espressos in town."

"Please, Vincent. You didn't get anywhere with me eight years ago, and you're not going to get anywhere now. Not when you've got a wife and son at home." Natasha gave him a knowing look until he backed off. "How _is_ married life, by the way?"

"It's good," he said as he looked aside. "Better than I deserve. Perhaps better than any of us in this business deserve." He shook his head and sighed. "All my time in the field, I thought it was the last thing I'd ever want. But life rarely works out according to plan." Vincent bottled up his introspection and looked at her again. "After all, who would think that you would acquire such famous friends?"

"I know I didn't," Natasha replied, reluctant to say any more. She had often pondered that subject on her own. However, she preferred not to talk about her relationships even though she could see that that was where this conversation was headed.

"What's Captain America like? My son is his biggest fan. Kind of hurts my pride as a Frenchman."

"He's nice..."

"So he doesn't know you're here," Vincent said, guessing correctly. Despite serious deficits in his work ethic, he had always possessed a natural ability to read people. "It must be hard, working with such giants. Keeping secrets from them. I don't know anyone in our line of work who _isn't_ ashamed of what we do. At least some of the time."

Natasha didn't reply, and an uncomfortable silence hung between them for several seconds.

"I really did hope you would come from the Louvre." Vincent took the opportunity to look out at it and the arched monument again. "Beautiful, isn't it? I've lived here for the past eight years, and this is the first time I've sat down to enjoy this view. Amazing what you can miss when you're working all the time."

"Beauty is just skin deep. You know anything more about them?" She had always been more comfortable discussing anything else.

"Well, I know that the monument over there is called the 'Arc de Triomphe.' Napoleon's triumphal arch. He had it built to celebrate a great victory he had over the Russians. Your people."

"They're not my people anymore," Natasha said, a bit wistfully. "Going on ten years now." Recollections of her rigorous childhood training flashed through her mind. Her mind quickly flowed into memories of her escape and defection to SHIELD, and then onto thoughts of the shocking developments from just two weeks ago. "I prefer not to label myself as anything."

"They'll always be your people," Vincent said. "But that Napoleon, such a fascinating person." He turned away from the arches and looked Natasha in the eye. "Everyone jokes about his 'Napoleon complex'. They say he fought so hard because he was so short."

"His height was a myth. I know that much about him."

"Yes, but myths have a way of taking hold. The truth is that he was highly skilled. Adaptable. Able to make people see him the way he _wanted_ to be seen."

"Too bad it didn't help him in the end," Natasha said, aware of his eventual defeat.

"Of course not. He was too ruthless. Never satisfied, always looking for another fight. Oh, he won a lot at first. But then he went too far and burned too many bridges. He was all alone, when the rest of the world came circling in on him."

"If only he could stop."

Natasha looked up, and in that moment, she noticed that the sky had darkened. Above her, the storm clouds were gathering. She felt a drop of rain on her face, almost imperceptibly small, and then another. The weather had changed so quickly, as if the pleasant sunlight from before had merely been an illusion. "Alright, I think it's time we go. It's been nice talking to you."

"No problem, Natasha. I just hope you'll remember what I said. All of us can only do so much."

"That might be the case, but we still have to do as much as we can."

"Of course," Vincent said.

"So it's settled. We'll hit the catacombs tonight."

_**While Natasha prepares for her latest mission, Steve and Sam will stumble into an unexpected ordeal! What will they uncover? What friends or foes will they find?**_

_**It all starts to come together in Chapter 9: Tangled Web!**_


	9. Tangled Web

**Chapter Nine**

**Tangled Web**

_April 16, 2014_

_Höchst Industrial Park_

_Frankfurt, Germany_

Steve read from a sign as he drove past a drab brick building. "Fleischer Pharmaceuticals." Not wanting to look suspicious, he continued down the street and around a corner before he parked his car.

Sam looked at the clock, which read 8:27 PM. "It's not even that late. Think we should wait a little."

"Any longer and we might miss our chance to get in. I don't wanna have to break anything."

"Guess you're right." Sam glanced out the side window before he opened the glove compartment. From it, he removed a Beretta M9 standard issue service pistol. An Army friend of his had smuggled it out for him from a nearby military base. It was a good weapon, accurate and with a high-capacity magazine. Sam checked to see if it was loaded before he racked the gun's slide and switched its safety off. "He could've gotten another one for you, you know."

"It's alright." Steve turned around for the carry bag resting on the backseat, which enclosed his vibranium shield. "I'd rather not have to shoot anyone either."

As a trained soldier, Steve wouldn't refrain from using anything on hand during a real combat situation. But after the war, and SHIELD, and all that stuff with Bucky, the sound of gunfire had begun to wear on him. He preferred to avoid the use of firearms whenever he could. It allowed him to tell himself that he wasn't just a soldier. That he could put all of that in the past where it belonged.

The irony of that wasn't lost to him, because tracking down Bucky was why they were even there.

"Not like that'll be enough in a real firefight," Steve said.

Sam smiled. "Just don't come crying to me about being empty handed." He stuck the gun into a belt holster beneath his jacket before he pocketed a spare magazine. The M9 was too big to be an ideal concealed carry weapon, but hopefully he wouldn't have to pack it for long.

"I've got all I need over here."

They exited the car and looped around toward the other side of their target building. Just as Sam had concealed his gun, Steve made sure to keep his shield under wraps. They were being careful even though the sun had set several minutes ago, and most of the companies at the industrial park had closed for the day. Neither wanted to be seen with a weapon before they could even reach their destination.

From the intel in Natasha's folder, Steve knew that Fleischer Pharmaceuticals had been doing very well over the last few years. They had locked up several niche markets in Eastern Europe after the untimely death of a top executive at a competing firm. That murder had never been solved, but looking back, it had several disturbing similarities to other killings now attributed to the Winter Soldier. Fleischer had never been implicated in the crime despite a SHIELD investigation. Steve knew better now than to trust what SHIELD had said before.

The Fleischer building wasn't very much to look at. It was six stories tall, rectangular, and equipped with an adjoined warehouse. The place was just a little less ugly than the surrounding manufacturing plants, which had gushing smokestacks and exposed metal pipes winding between their buildings.

Steve and Sam stopped as they saw a semi-truck rolling out from the Fleischer parking lot. Looking forward, Steve could see several other trucks lined up in front of the warehouse with their trailers backed into separate loading docks along the building's wall. A few of those docks were still open and unobstructed.

"That's our way in," Steve said.

"Getting in is the easy part. It's what you do once you're inside."

"Only one way to see what we're made of."

They proceeded toward the left-most loading dock, which was obscured from the rest of the dimly lit parking lot by the truck standing beside it. Reaching the dock, Steve looked inside to see if it was clear. He spotted several workers and forklifts moving about the warehouse floor, but no one was near where he was. Steve looked Sam in the eye, and Sam nodded before they both climbed inside.

Quickly, they proceeded into the warehouse for some cover. Long racks loaded with crates divided most of the warehouse floor into several wide aisles, and those aisles would allow them to move even deeper in without being seen by the workers.

"Okay, now what?" Sam asked as they stopped behind one of those racks. He drew his gun as he waited for an answer.

"This place is connected to their offices. If we can get to the other side, we might be able to find some evidence. Like documents or computer files...Something."

"We're just winging it, aren't we?"

Steve shrugged in acknowledgement. His friend was pararescue, trained in the recovery and extraction of fellow servicemen. Steve himself was experienced in direct action raids and sabotage. They both had wide skill sets, but neither of them was a spy. The thought of that once again reminded him of Natasha. _Wish you were here_...

Footsteps on the concrete floor suddenly filled his ears. Someone was coming around the gap between this rack and the next one in the aisle. Steve reacted on reflex, knowing he didn't have enough time to pull out his shield. He instead turned and held the shield, bag and all, in front of him. Just in time to stop five bullets from tearing into his chest.

"Get down!" Sam yelled.

Ducking, Steve's ears rang as Sam fired off several shots from just behind his head. Before he knew it, a uniformed guard had fallen dead on the floor.

Steve's mouth fell open, and he turned toward his friend in shock.

"Security's not supposed to shoot on sight! That guy was Hydra!"

"Kill them all!" someone yelled, cutting short the conversation.

Automatic gunfire ripped through the crates to their right, sending a flurry of splinters into the air.

"Move!" Steve yelled as he swung his arm forward. Following Sam through the aisle, he pulled his shield out and slipped it onto his right arm. Several more bullets bounced off of it as he ran.

Up ahead, he saw Sam stopping at the end of the rack. Steve lowered his head and jumped forward, rolling to a stop beside him.

The automatics didn't let up, but Sam turned into the next aisle and fired back. His shooting form was good, and the look on his face was cool and resolute.

That lasted all of three seconds before a stream of bullets punctured the crates near his head.

"Oh shit!" Sam yelled. He wisely hit the floor and stayed down.

"Told you that wouldn't be enough!" Steve yelled.

"Well at least I brought a gun!" Sam reached around the rack and fired off several blind shots. That bought them a few more seconds before his gun went dry. "Got six of them coming in," he said as he reached for his spare mag. "Hope you got a plan..."

Steve had something in mind. He just didn't have time to explain.

Taking hold of Sam, he pulled his friend behind before he slammed the edge of his shield into the support beam at the end of the rack. The thin piece of metal buckled in an instant. Other beams all along the frame of the rack strained and snapped in quick succession. Crates crumbled down on top of each other, clearly unstable. With a shove, Steve ensured that they would fall the right way.

The men in the next aisle screamed, but their voices were quickly drowned out by the thunderous crash of hundreds of crates upon the warehouse floor. Just like that, they were gone. Steve neither heard nor saw any more from that set of attackers.

"Damn," Sam said as he rose to his feet. "That's some plan."

He abruptly turned and fired across the row at another group of guards. "Can you do it again?

"New plan," Steve said as he got stepped beside him and warded off several bullets. "We're getting the hell outta here."

Sam kept shooting until those men went down. "I like the way you think!"

Steve hated to abort a mission, but he knew well enough to call it when things were screwed. Taking off, he headed directly toward the truck loading docks.

He could see that most of the vehicles weren't there anymore. Neither were the regular employees who had been loading them. Whoever was running things at Fleischer must have had a plan in place for scenarios like this.

_What's next? _Steve thought. He could see the metal dock doors already rolling down over the openings. Someone was trying to seal him and Sam in. He realized that a cover up wouldn't work unless any investigators were taken care of.

The door of the last opening was four feet from the floor, and twenty-five feet away from Steve. He would make it in time if he didn't slow down. Steve knew that Sam wasn't as fast as he was though. He'd have to grab that door and keep it from sealing shut so that his friend could roll out.

About twelve feet from the door, someone jumped out from behind a nearby pile of abandoned crates. The next thing Steve knew, he was taking a boot to the face.

"Steve!" his friend yelled.

Dazed and on the floor, Steve reached around trying to find his shield. He heard two gunshots, before Sam grunted and fell down several feet away.

Steve saw the dull metallic hue of his shield in the corner of his eye. It didn't catch his eye as it would in red, white, and blue, so it was fortunate that is was close to him.

_Pick it up!_ Steve thought. Already, he could see someone leaping toward Sam. He recovered the shield and dove with it over his friend just as a sword came down.

Pushing up, Steve sent their attacker stumbling back several steps. The person was dressed all in black, with a full mask and an armored vest. All Steve could see was that this person was much shorter and smaller than he was.

That didn't deter his foe at all, who came charging right back at him.

_Damn he's fast_, Steve thought as he deflected several slashes. Even with his enhanced physique, he couldn't bring his shield to bear as quickly as this person could with a sword. _Can't block them all_. He twisted, ducked, and jumped to avoid being hacked apart.

Finally, he caught his opponent over committing on a stroke. Steve swung his shield and knocked the blade from his foe's hand. Disarmed, his opponent was helpless as Steve reversed and swung his shield back the other way. The blow was enough to send the person flying back more than a dozen feet. His enemy stayed down after hitting the floor, and Steve could tell right away that had he scored a solid hit.

_Fast, but not strong enough_.

Steve glanced at Sam, who was slowly rising to his feet. Knowing that he was fine, Steve turned his attention back to the mysterious assassin. With great difficulty, his opponent was trying to get up as well.

Pulling his shield back, Steve stepped forward and prepared to deliver the killing blow. He hesitated for a moment though. Something about the situation just didn't sit well with him.

He was a soldier, and this was a combat situation. There were good reasons to kill this Hydra thug and ensure a clean escape.

However, Steve also knew that that this person had been totally outclassed. He actually felt sorry for his smaller opponent, who was clearly struggling with an injury.

_Maybe I can just knock him out._ Maybe he had had enough of all of the fighting and killing...

He suddenly heard a loud popping sound, and he crouched behind his shield on instinct. Not one second later, something exploded between him and his opponent. Most likely a grenade based on the way he was now flying back through the air.

Steve found himself on the floor next to Sam. Forcing himself to a sitting position, he saw his opponent lying motionless in a pool of blood. The poor guy must've been torn apart by the shrapnel.

"Cut off one head," a man said to Steve's left. He turned and saw another masked assassin, who was noticeably bigger than the one he had fought. Instead of a sword, this guy had an assault rifle with an attached grenade launcher. He was loading another explosive round, and his body language suggested that he was doing so for the fun of it.

"Two more shall take its place!" yelled another one from the right. Unlike his partner, he had his rifle carefully trained on Steve and Sam.

One to keep them down, one to blow them both straight to hell.

Sam groaned and looked at Steve. "They're gonna say it again, aren't they?"

"HAIL HY–"

The two terrorists couldn't finish their catchphrase before several more gunshots rang out. Both of them flopped down onto the floor. Steve noticed that the one on the left had died not from bullets, but from an arrow to the back of the head.

"If you boys wanted to hunt some Hydra," said a man with a familiar voice, "then you should've stayed with me."

"Fury..." Steve said, feeling relieved as he saw him approaching. "Clint." He and Sam got up to meet them on their feet.

"We were doing pretty good until you barged in," Clint said with noticeable annoyance. He looked down and sighed before he spoke again. "Glad you're alright, Steve."

"Same." Steve stepped forward and shook his hand.

"Is that –" Sam asked.

"Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye," Steve said to him. "Avenger and the best damn marksman I've ever seen." He turned to Clint to introduce his newer friend. "This is Sam Wilson."

Sam laughed and patted Steve on the shoulder as he walked up to Clint. "I'm the guy who's been saving his ass lately." With a cheerful grin, he extended his hand.

Clint looked down at it, before he raised his skeptical eyes toward Sam's face. "Pleased to meet you," he said in a neutral tone of voice. He then looked at Steve again even as he began to shake Sam's hand. "Thought Tasha was doing that. Where is she?"

"Wish I could say," Steve replied. That question had been torturing him all week, and he could see that it had been weighing on Clint as well.

"Listen," Fury said. "This little reunion is nice and all, but we don't have much time. It won't be long before the authorities are all over this place. And as much as I'd like to stay and help in the investigation, I'd rather not be seen here."

Steve nodded in agreement. "We should grab what we need and get out. You guys find anything in there?"

"Lots." Clint handed over a small handheld computer, similar to a smartphone.

"Pictures?" Steve asked as he looked at the screen.

"And a whole bunch of files from their server. Like I said, we were doing just fine."

"Sorry," Steve replied. He froze as he took a closer look at the picture. It was of a chair with straps on the armrests and a device mounted over where a person's head would be. "This looks like what they found in D.C. What Hydra was using on Bucky."

"We found that one in storage," Fury said as he turned over the body of one of the masked assassins. "Looked like it hadn't been used in a while." He unmasked the dead man and took a picture of his face.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"These boys in black weren't some low-level guards. They had training. The type you got from SHIELD."

"Gotta cross a few names off our Christmas card list," Clint said.

"So this place was for brainwashing?" Steve asked with growing interest.

"Not really." Fury moved on and did the same with the second body. "They're into pharmaceuticals, just like they said. The brainwashing is just performed _elsewhere_. Tell them, Barton."

"We found a dozen different drugs here that weren't in the brochure. Physical stimulants. Hallucinogens. Mood manipulators. Memory suppressants."

"All for Bucky?" Steve asked. He was tense, and perhaps foolishly, a little hopeful. If this place made the stuff that had brainwashed his old friend, then it might also have something that could help bring him back.

"No," Fury said, bluntly dashing his hopes. The former SHIELD Director walked toward the body of the small but agile assassin who had fought Steve hand-to-hand. "This particular mix produces effects that are bit more...subtle than what we've seen from him."

"Subtle?" Sam wasn't buying Fury's euphemism at all.

"Oh, they're terrible alright. Just not _quite_ as extreme."

"It's what the Red Room used to stick in Tasha," Clint said with a hint of pain in his eyes.

"When was this?" Steve asked, his tone almost demanding an answer. In all of his conversations with Natasha, she had never shared very much about her life before SHIELD. Steve just knew that she had a troubled past, and that she had been used by her superiors in Russian intelligence. Dishonesty and manipulation were part of the spy game. Those things came with the territory, and that was why Steve had never fully taken to his work with SHIELD. The fact that Natasha hated her former agency hadn't surprised him. He had just never envisioned anything _this _bad.

"A lifetime ago," Fury said. "Going back about ten to twenty-six years." He unmasked the small assassin, revealing the face of a shockingly young woman. "Damn it," Fury muttered. "She doesn't look a day over sixteen."

The revelation made Steve sick to his stomach, and he looked at Clint again.

"That's not even the worst of it," Clint said before he could open his mouth. "The amounts they were shipping out tonight...it was enough for dozens of girls."

"Where were they going?" Steve asked with mounting anger.

"Paris. It looks like they were gonna stop in Paris."

_**Things are all coming to a head. But before everyone can catch up, Natasha will be venturing alone into the twisted underworld beneath the City of Light. Down there, she'll find more than she bargained for!**_

_**The story continues in Chapter 10: Paris Underground**_


	10. Paris Underground

**Chapter Ten**

**Paris Underground**

_April 17, 2014_

_Paris, France_

"Let's not wait around," Vincent said. Facing forward, he shined his flashlight down the tracks as he led Natasha through the dark subway tunnel.

Natasha followed him with her own flashlight. "The trains stop running at 1:15." That had been a few minutes ago, when they had slipped into this tunnel after getting off at a nearby metro station. "Besides, this tunnel hasn't been used in years."

"You did your homework. Makes my presence here a bit...redundant."

Vincent's pause did not escape Natasha's attention. Nor did the way he was nervously examining their surroundings. Despite his earlier agreement to join her, he was now clearly having second thoughts about the mission.

"I'm all ears if you know anything more," Natasha said.

Vincent sighed. "I told you already," he said with growing tension in his voice. "SHIELD operated with impunity in this city. People like me knew better than to watch them _too_ closely. You should be glad I've told you as much as I have."

According to Vincent, he had tailed several SHIELD agents after they had purchased a number of trafficked girls at the edge of the city. Those agents took the girls through several known access points to the catacombs located in the area above. Vincent had never dared to follow them underground, and it was anyone's guess what had happened to their victims.

Natasha assumed that the catacombs were being used to hold the girls until they could be transported to secret sales locations in other parts of the city. With no infrastructure on the streets above, those corrupt agents could avoid scrutiny even from the parts of the government that _did_ care to investigate their trafficking.

Vincent came to a stop and shined his flashlight along the wall.

"Are we lost?" Natasha asked.

"No. I just haven't been here in a while. This hole we're looking for is somewhat _off_ the beaten path." According to Vincent, one of his local informants was a "cataphile," an urban explorer who enjoyed sneaking underground into places where he wasn't supposed to go. The young man had shown him an entrance to the catacombs that was located in this tunnel and allegedly known to very few. "It won't do you much good if we get caught at a busy entrance."

Vincent moved on, slower than before. Natasha noticed his hand trembling. She remembered that he had never been the bravest field agent, and she couldn't resist ribbing him on that. "Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark as well," she said, smiling as she walked up beside him.

"I have a family now. I have more to lose than you do."

_Good point_.

They continued in awkward silence for several minutes. The only sounds Natasha could hear were the echoes of their own footsteps. The only thing she could smell was a vague stink in the damp, chilly air.

"There," Vincent said as he walked around a bend in the tracks. "That's it."

He shined his flashlight on a three-foot wide hole where the left wall met the floor. Natasha looked inside, and sure enough, there was another tunnel below running parallel to the train tracks. The floor underneath was about six feet down, meaning the ceiling in the tunnel wouldn't be that far above their heads. Nor were the walls very far apart. It didn't even look like two people could walk side-by-side down there.

"Looks good," Natasha said. She could see that Vincent didn't agree. "You coming?" she asked, already knowing how he would reply.

"Eh...Maybe I should sit this one out. I'm not as...petite as you are."

"Suit yourself," Natasha said as she walked over to the hole. As always, she was fine with working solo.

"I'm sure you can find your way down there." He paused and smiled, clearly relieved to be free from the task ahead. "It'd just be a shame to ruin such a nice coat."

"I know how to dress for the occasion." Natasha pulled her trench coat off to reveal her black catsuit. She removed the gun from her coat pocket and stuck it in her right thigh holster, opposite from the Glock already on her left leg. Looking up at Vincent, she could see him eyeing her up and down. "Hold this for me," she said as she tossed the coat at him.

"Of course."

"I'll be back for it later. Just don't let your wife catch you with that."

He nodded. "Good luck, Natasha."

She squeezed through the hole and dropped down into the catacombs. There, she shined her flashlight around for several seconds to get a better view of her immediate surroundings. The walls were made of stone blocks, and the floor was unpaved and bumpy. Any fighting in this environment wouldn't just be at close quarters; it would be awkward with virtually no room to maneuver. Her best bet was to take out any threats she would find before they could even see her.

Fortunately, she had come prepared. She turned off her flashlight and stuck it on her utility belt. Reaching for another compartment, she removed a pair of night vision goggles that she wrapped around her head with an elastic band.

Night vision worked by amplifying faint star and moonlight, neither of which existed in the sealed, pitch-black catacombs. These goggles, however, were equipped with an infrared illuminator mounted above the two lenses. The IR energy it projected could be seen with the goggles on but not with naked eyes. It wouldn't reveal her location the way a flashlight would.

Unless the enemy had night vision of their own, in which case the illuminator would become a bright green "Shoot my head over here" sign. Only a fool would think that she could cover _all_ of her bases.

With one gun in hand, Natasha carefully proceeded through the cramped, winding tunnels. Some sections were big enough for her to walk through normally. Others were so narrow that even at a slim 5'3, she had to duck and turn sideways in order to squeeze through. The conditions made her feel even more sorry for the poor girls who had been dragged down there against their will.

Here and there, the tunnels were propped up with limestone support pillars that should have made her feel better about the place. The cracks in those crudely shaped pillars, and on the parts of the ceiling where they connected, made her feel otherwise.

Everything, all of the walls, supports, and rubble on the floor, appeared to her in eerie shades of green. It seemed so unnatural, and she felt as if she were watching one of those "found footage" horror movies. _Like I'm making one myself_, she thought. _And I haven't even gotten to the scary part yet_. Vincent had been wise to opt out of this.

Further and further in she went, picking turns at random and trying her best to remember the route she had come from. She didn't have any maps to go by. Those didn't even exist for this place, which was obscure even to experienced cataphiles. All she knew was that the SHIELD agents she was looking for had gone underground somewhere in the vicinity of where she had started.

The stuffy air and the confining spaces began to wear on her, and Natasha sat down to rest behind a support column. She kept herself from leaning against it for fear of straining the centuries old structure. _How long have I been down here?_ She looked down to check her smartphone. It wasn't getting any service at all down there, but it could still tell the time. _An hour. Only an hour_.

The batteries in her night vision goggles could last for several more, and she had been smart enough to pack some spares. Still, she worried about being trapped down there blind. She had no friends left who could bail her out, even if she _wanted_ to call for help.

After another minute, she pushed herself up. She didn't groan as she did so despite how much her damn shoulder was bothering her again. The catacombs were silent and she didn't want to be the only thing making any noise.

Continuing on, she hugged the wall as she went around another corner. Looking ahead, she saw a solid wall just twenty feet away from her. _Just what I need_. A dead end.

Or was it? Lowering her head, she shined her IR illuminator along the bottom of the walls around her. There was a hole in the corner, just tall enough for her to squeeze through.

Natasha didn't like the idea of going even lower. However, she also knew that she had barely ventured into the catacombs so far. Parts of the network were at least seven levels deep. Further down was where people would probably go if they had something to hide.

She lay flat on the ground and stuck her head through the gap. The corridor below her was extremely tight. It was barely wide enough for her to spread her arms out, and its uneven ceiling was so low at some points that even she would probably have to bend over in order to get through. Natasha went in, hoping that it wouldn't be long before she could reach a more reasonably sized tunnel.

Hunched over, she was now moving even slower than she had before. Making matters worse, she began to hear some splashing under her feet. The corridor was partially flooded, and soon the depth of the water increased from about an inch to almost a foot. There was no way for her to get through it without making noise. She was dead meat if someone were to show up at the other end of the tunnel with a gun...

Thankfully, she reached dry ground again. It quickly began to slope up, and soon the walls around her gave way to a more open space. Natasha went up the ramp into a much wider corridor, glad that she wouldn't be so confined anymore.

At first, the floor felt smooth as if it had been paved. A glance at the walls also showed them to be of better construction than what she had seen before. This was a real tunnel. Not one the many side passages and crawlspaces she had spent the last hour in. Natasha felt a slight lift in her spirits as she began to walk again. She was surely getting closer to her objective, and her current surroundings were far more bearable.

It wasn't long before she arrived at a corner. As she turned into the next hallway, she heard a crunching sound. She looked down and saw that the floor was littered with bones, many of which were piled up as high as her thighs. Just beneath her right foot was a cracked skull, staring up at her with it gaping, broken jaws.

Natasha grimaced in disgust. She looked forward, and she saw that the walls of this hallway hadn't been neatly constructed with blocks. They had instead been made of human remains. As many bones had been used to build this hallway as had been discarded on its floor.

The worst things about it were the skulls. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them were arranged in several parallel rows running along both sides of the hall. All of them had been neatly placed and made to face outward so that they seemed to be watching the corridor.

_Can't believe this is real_. Natasha couldn't decide on the creepiest aspect of it all. Was it the skulls themselves, or the fact that people had seen fit to arrange them like this? The thought of it made her grit her teeth for a moment before she pushed herself to continue.

A stone cross was mounted against the left wall about forty feet away, as if it made the place look any less unholy. Natasha also saw several openings in the walls that led into narrower hallways. The hall she was in must have been a central passageway for its section of the catacombs. If there was anything of value in the surrounding area, it was probably connected to where she was.

Lights suddenly appeared from up ahead. One was coming from the left, around a curve about sixty feet down the main hallway. The other appeared from one of the smaller passages through an opening on the right. The first signs of life she had seen since she had made her descent.

Natasha assumed a two-handed grip on her pistol, readying herself to shoot. She preferred not to use it as a first resort though. Swinging around, she looked for somewhere to hide. A few piles of bones and rubble on the floor tempted her, but she doubted that they would be tall enough for proper concealment.

She opted instead for one of the openings on the right side, just before where the lights were coming from. Quickly, she ran there and pressed herself against its wall. From her chosen spot, she could look into the main hallway and watch those people as they entered.

Two sets of footsteps converged until a man gasped. "Jeez! You could've warned me you were here!"

"Who else did you expect?" said another man. This one had a gruff voice, and he sounded older than the other one did.

"How the hell should I know? God damn it...This place gives me the creeps."

Natasha could see a light shining over the skulls on the left wall, as if the younger man was carefully looking at them. Soon, the two men moved into view. They were wearing standard issue tactical gear from SHIELD, and they were both armed with short-barreled assault rifles. Together, they proceeded toward another opening on the left side of the main passage. This one led down a staircase.

"You've been here for a week," the older man said. "Quit your bitching already."

"Pay me right and I will." The newbie followed his more experienced partner, lagging behind by several paces. "At least SHIELD was giving us money. All we get from Hydra is a bunch of empty promises."

"Yeah, well there's no going back _now_, is there?"

Quietly, Natasha made her way to the staircase beside the one they were descending. It looked like it was going down to the same place. If she hurried down, she would get there in time to cut off the younger man.

"I swear," the new guy said. "I heard something before. There's something else down here."

Natasha waited five steps from the bottom of her staircase, watching the hallway below to see which way the men would turn. The older man went left, passing by without seeing her. She holstered her gun and pressed a button on her right bracelet, activating one of her taser gloves.

"Stop being a pussy. I bet those girls have bigger balls than you." The older man laughed again, louder than he had before.

_Perfect_, Natasha thought as she prepared to seize on the distraction. The younger agent walked by, and he was about to say something when she pounced. With her left hand, she covered his mouth and brought him down as she pressed her taser glove into his neck. He was out before he knew it.

"You gonna say anything, kid? It's like you just saw a ghost." The remaining agent giggled as he continued down the hall.

Natasha moved to catch up with him. "Your friend was right," she said, stopping him in his tracks. "There _is_ something else down here."

The man cursed and spun around, but Natasha used her left arm to keep him from bringing his rifle to bear. She kicked him in the side and seized his head when he bent over. Running up the wall beside them, she passed above her opponent and snapped his neck as she came down.

She let go of his limp body and looked down the hall, squinting. There was another light nearby. This one was mounted on the ceiling above a locked metal door that sealed off this section of the catacombs. Natasha turned off her night vision goggles and pushed them up above her eyes.

The door was sleek and clean. Definitely not a leftover from World War II. It was electronically locked, with what appeared to be a retinal scanner. No security camera though.

_This is it_...

Excitement coursed through her hands as she picked up her fallen enemy. Natasha dragged him over to the doorway and lifted his face to the scanner.

With one click, the door's lock opened. Natasha dropped the body and drew one of her guns before she turned the door handle to go in.

The door opened into a spacious, well-lit passageway that curved to the right. Its walls were bare rock, but there were cables running high above to power numerous lights. No shadows or obstacles to hide behind. She needed to get in and find some cover, fast.

Natasha ran to the curve and peeked around. The passage led into a bright round cavern. There were locked doors and openings into other passageways all around its floor, as well as on the wall about fifteen feet up. Metal staircases stood on both the left and the right, leading up to a grated walkway that provided access to the upper level. Natasha watched three men walking up the left staircase and disappearing into one of the rooms.

_Keep moving_. Natasha knew that the entrance was where she would most likely be caught. She jogged into the cavern, careful to watch for any guards or security cameras. So far so good...

Two men were chattering as they came through a door across the floor. Natasha turned into the nearest passageway, which was relatively dark. She got out of the central cavern just they came in.

_Running blind over here. _This is what she got for rushing in alone.

She walked through the passage, which led into a large, dimly lit storage room. There, she could stop for a moment and hopefully figure out what to do next.

Standing in the middle of the room, she looked around to decide on which shadowy pile of crates would best conceal her. Before she could choose, lights turned on all around the room.

"Agent Romanoff. How nice of you to drop by."

_**To be continued in Chapter 11: In the Dark**_

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**Author's Note:** Yes, the catacombs are real. I did a bunch of research for this one, although I left most of it out for the sake of brevity.

I've also noticed that a few of you have submitted anonymous comments. That's fine, but it'd be even better if you signed in so I could respond to you personally. Make an account if you don't have one already. It's definitely worth it!

Hope you're all enjoying the story. I've got the next few chapters outlined already. Things should be picking up from here. :)


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